
















ALEOY. 

IXION IN HEAVEN. 
THE INEEENAL MAEEIAGE. 
POPANIELA. 


SaTrant^nc 5l3re?3 

BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. 
EDINBURGH AND LONDON 


/ 


ALROY. 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 
THE INEERNAL MARRIAGE, 
POPANILLA. 


BY THE 

RIGHT HON. BENJAMIN DISRAELI, 
EARL OF BEACONSFIELD. 

3 ^^ 


ATEfV EDITION, 

, ^ ^ Or GO/V/yy- 

NEW YORK: 

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, 

9 LAFAYETTE PLACE. 



PREFACE 


TO 

ALEOY. 


BEiNa at Jerusalem in the year 1831, and visiting the 
traditionary tombs of the Bangs of Israel, my thoughts 
recurred to a personage whose marvellous career had, 
even in boyhood, attracted my attention, as one fraught 
with the richest materials of poetic fiction. And I then 
commenced these pages that should commemorate the 
name of Alrot. 

In the twelfth century, when he arose, this was the 
political condition of the East: 

The Caliphate was in a state of rapid decay. The 
Seljukian Sultans, who had been called to the assist¬ 
ance of the Commanders of the Faithful, had become, 
like the Mayors of the palace in France, the real 
sovereigns of the Empire. Out of the dominions of 
the successors of the Prophet, they had carved four 
kingdoms, which conferred titles on four Seljukian 
Princes, to wit, the Sultan of Bagdad, the Sultan of 
Persia, the Sultan of Syria, and the Sultan of Koum, or 
Asia Minor 


VI 


PKEFACE. 


But these warlike princes, in the relaxed discipline 
and doubtful conduct of their armies, began themselves 
to evince the natural effects of luxury and indulgence. 
They were no longer the same invincible and irresistible 
warriors who had pom*ed forth from the shores of the 
Caspian over the fairest regions of the East; and 
althougli they still contrived to preserve order in their 
dominions, they witnessed with ill-concealed appre¬ 
hension the rising power of the Kings of Karasme, 
whose conquests daily made their territories more con¬ 
tiguous. 

With regard to the Hebrew people, it should be 
known that, after the destruction of Jerusalem, the 
Eastern Jews, while they acknowledged the supremacy 
of their conquerors, gathered themselves together for 
all purposes of jurisdiction, under the control of a 
native ruler, a reputed descendant of David, whom 
they dignified with the title of ^ The Prince of the 
Captivity.’ If we are to credit the enthusiastic an¬ 
nalists of this imaginative people, there were periods of 
prosperity when the Princes of the Captivity assumed 
scarcely less state and enjoyed scarcely less power than 
the ancient Kings of Judah themselves. Certain it is 
that their power increased always in an exact propor¬ 
tion to the weakness of the Caliphate, and, without 
doubt, in some of the most distracted periods of the 
Arabian rule, the Hebrew Princes rose into some de¬ 
gree of local and temporary importance. Their chief 
residence was Bagdad, where they remained until the 
eleventh century, an age fatal in Oriental history, and 
from the disasters of which the Princes of the Captivity 
were not exempt. They are heard of even in the 


PEEFACE. 


Vll 


twelfth centmy. I have ventured to place one at 
Hamadan, which was a favourite residence of the 
Hebrews, from being the burial-place of Esther and 
Mordecai. 

With regard to the supernatural machinery of this 
romance, it is Cabalistical and correct. From tlie 
Spirits of the Tombs to the sceptre of Solomon, autho¬ 
rity may be found in the traditions of the Hebrews for 
the introduction of all these spiritual agencies. 


Grosvenor Gate: 




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A L R O Y 


PAIiT 1. 


CHAPTKH I 

Tin: CORNETS sounded a final flonrisli as the Prince of tlie 
Cnptivity dismounted from liis white mule; his train shouted 
as if tliey were once more a people ; and, had it not been 
for the contemptuous leer which played upon the counte¬ 
nances of the Moslem bystanders, it might have been taken 
for a day of triumph rather than of tribute. 

‘ The glory has not departed ! ’ exclaimed the venerable 
Bostenay, as he entered the hall of his mansion. ‘ It is not 
as the visit of Sheba unto Solomon ; nevertheless the glory 
lias not yet departed. You have done well, faithful Caleb.’ 
The old man’s courage waxed more vigorous, as each step 
within his own walls the more assured him against the 
recent causes of his fear, the audible curses and the 
threatened missiles of the unbelieving mob. 

‘It shall be a day of rejoicing and thanksgiving!’ con¬ 
tinued the Prince; ‘and look, my faithful Caleb, that the 
trumpeters be well served. That last flourish was bravely 
done. It was not as the blast before Jericho ; nevertheless, 
it told that the Lord of Hosts was for us. How the accursed 
Ishmaelites started ! Did you mark, Caleb, that tall Turk 
in green upon my left ? By the sceptre of Jacob, he turned 
pale ! 011 1 it shall be a day of rejoicing and thanksgiving ! 

And spare not the wine, nor the flesh-pots for the people. 
]jook you to this, my child, for the people shouted bravely 

p. 



2 


ALEOY. 


and with a stout voice. It was not as the great shout in 
the camp when the ark returned; nevertheless, it was boldly 
done, and showed that the* glory had not yet departed. So 
spare not the wine, my son, and drink to the desolation of 
Ishmael in the juice which he dare not quaff.’ 

‘It has indeed been a great day for Israel!’ exclaimed 
Caleb, echoing his master’s exultation. 

‘ Had the procession been forbidden,’ continued Bostenay, 

‘ had it been reserved for me of all the princes to have 
dragged the accursed tribute upon foot, without trumpets 
and without guards, by this sceptre, my good Caleb, I 
really think that, sluggishly as this old blood now runs, I 

would- But it is needless now to talk ; the God of our 

fathers hath been our refuge.’ 

‘ Yerily, my lord, we were as David in the wilderness of 
Ziph; but now we are as the Lord’s anointed in the strong¬ 
hold of Engedi !’ 

‘ The glory truly has not yet utterly departed,’ resumed 

the Prince in a more subdued tone ; ‘ yet if,-I tell you 

what, Caleb ; praise the Lord that you are young.’ 

‘ My Prince too may yet live to see the good day.’ 

‘ Hay, my child, you misinterpret me. Tour Prince has 
lived to see the evil day. ’Twas not of the coming that I 
thought when I bid you praise the Lord because you were 
young, the more my sin. I was thinking, Caleb, that if 
your hair was as mine, if you could recollect, like me, the 
days that are gone by, the days when it needed no bribe to 
prove we were princes, the glorious days when v,m led cap¬ 
tivity captive ; I was thinking, I say, my son, what a gainful 
heritage it is to be born after the joys that have passed 
away.’ 

‘ My father lived at Babylon,’ said Caleb. 

‘Oh! name it not! name it not!’ exclaimed the old 
chieftain. ‘Dark was the day that we lost that second 
Sion! We were then also slaves to the Egyptian; but 
verily we ruled over the realm of Pharaoh. Why, Caleb, 
Caleb, you who know all, the days of toil, the nights rest¬ 
less as a love-sick boy’s, which it has cost your Prince to 




AJjroY. 


gaiii permission to grace onr tribute-day Y.utli tlic paltry 
presence of lialf-a-dozen guards ; you who know all my 
difficulties, who have witnessed all my mortifications, what 
would you say to the purse of dirhems, surrounded by seven 
thousand scimetars ?’ 

‘ Seven thousand scimetars !’ 

‘ Not one less ; my father flourished one,’ 

‘ It was indeed a great day for Israel!’ 

‘ Nay, that is nothing. When old Alroy was prince, old 
David Alroy, for thirty years, good Caleb, thirty long years 
we paid no tribute to the Caliph.’ 

‘ No tribute ! no tribute for thirty years ! What marvel 
then, my Prince, that the Philistines have of late exacted 
interest ?’ 

‘ Nay, that is nothing,’ continued old Bostenay, unmind¬ 
ful of his servant’s ejaculations. ‘ When Moctador was 
Caliph, he sent to the same Prince David, to know why the 
dirhems were not brought up, and David immediately called 
to horse, and, attended by all the chief people, rode to the 
palace, and told the Caliph that tribute was an acknowledg¬ 
ment made from the weak to the strong to insure protection 
and support; and, inasmuch as he and liis people had gar¬ 
risoned the city for ten years against the Seljuks, he held 
the Caliph in arrear.’ 

‘ We shall yet see an ass mount a ladder,’^ exclaimed 
Caleb, with uplifted eyes of wonder. 

‘ It is true, though,’ continued tlie Prince; ‘ often have 
I heard my father tell the tale. He was then a child, and 
his mother held him up to see the procession return, and 
all the people shouted “ The sceptre has not gone out of 
Jacob.” ’ 

‘ It was indeed a great day for Israel.’ 

‘Nay, that is nothing. I could tell yon such things! 
But we prattle ; our business is not yet done. You to the 
people; the widow and the orphan are waiting. Give 
freely, good Caleb, give freely; the spoils of the Canaanite 
are no longer ours, nevertheless the Lord is still our God, 
and, after all, even this is a great day for Israel. And, 


4 


ALKOY. 


Caleb, Caleb, bid my nepbc^v, David Alroy, know tliafc I 
Avonld speak Avitli him.’ 

‘ I will do all promptly, good master! AYe wondered 
tliat our honoured lord, your nephew, went not up with the 
donation this day/ 

‘ Who bade you wonder ? Begone, sir ! How long are 
you to idle here ? Away !’ 

‘ They wonder he went not up with the tribute to-day. 
Ay ! surely, a common talk. This boy will be our ruin, a 
prudent hand to wield our shattered sceptre. I have ob¬ 
served him from his infancy; he should have lived in 
Babylon. The old Alroy blood flows in his veins, a stiff¬ 
necked race. Wlien I was a youth, his grandsire was my 
friend ; I had some fancies then myself. Dreams, dreams ! 
we have fallen on evil days, and yet we prosper. I have 
lived long enough to feel that a rich caravan, laden witli 
the shawls of India and the stufis of Saniarcand, if not 
exactly like dancing before the ark, is still a goodly sight. 
And our hard-hearted rulers, with all their pride, can they 
subsist without us ? Still we w^ax rich. I have lived to see 
the haughty Calij^h sink into a slave xdler far than Israel. 
And the victorious and voluptuous Seljuks, even now they 
tremble at the dim mention of the distant name of Arslan, 
Yet I, Bostenay, and the frail remnant of our scattereil 
tribes, still we exist, and still, thanks to our God! wo 
prosper. But the age of power has passed; it is by pru¬ 
dence now that we must flourish. The gibe and jest, the 
curse, perchance the blow, Israel now must bear, and with 
a calm or even smiling visage. What then ? For everv 
gibe and jest, for every curse, I’ll have a dirhem ; and for 
every blow, let him look to it Avho is my debtor, or wills to 
be so. But see, he comes, my nephew ! His grandsire was 
my friend. Metbinks I look upon him now : the same 
Alroy that was the 2Dartner of my boyish hours. And vet 
that fragile form and girlish face but ill consort with the 
dark j^assions and the dangerous fancies, which, I fear, lie 
hidden in that tender breast. Well, sir r’ 

‘ Yon want me, uncle ?’ 


ALIlOY. 


5 

‘ What then ? Uncles often want what nephews seldom 
offer.’ 

‘ 1 at least can refuse nothing ; for I have nought to give.’ 

‘ You have a jewel which I greatly covet.’ 

‘ A jcAvel! See my chaplet! You gave it me, my uncle ; 
it is yours.’ 

‘ I thank you. Many a blazing ruby, many a soft and 
shadowy pearl, and many an emerald glowing like a star in 
the far desert, I behold, my child. They are choice stones, 
and yet I miss a jewel far more precious, which, when I 
gave you this rich chaplet, David, I deemed you did possess.’ 

‘ How do you call it, sir ?’ 

‘ Obedience.’ 

‘ A word of doubtful import; for to obey, when duly is 
disgrace, is not a virtue.’ 

‘ I see you read my thought. In a word, I sent for you 
to know, wherefore you joined me not to-day in offering 
our, our -’ 

‘ Tribute.’ 

‘ Be it so : tribute. Why were you absent ? ’ 

‘ Because it was a tribute ; I pay none.’ 

‘ But that the dreary course of seventy winters has not 
erased the memory of my boyish follies, David, I should 
esteem you mad. Think you, because I am old, I am 
enamoured of disgrace, and love a house of bondage ? If 
life were a mere question between freedom and slavery, 
glory and dishonour, all could decide. Trust me, there 
needs but little spirit to be a moody patriot in a sullen home, 
and vent your heroic spleen upon your fellow-sufferers, 
wliose sufferings you cannot remedy. But of such stuff 
your race were ever made. Such deliverers ever abounded 
in the house of Alroy. And what has been the result ? I 
found you and your sister orphan infants, your sceptre 
broken, and your tribes dispersed. The tribute, which now 
at least we pay like princes, was then exacted with the 
scourge and offered in chains. I collected our scattered 
})eople, I re-established our ancient throne, and this day, 
which you look upon as a day of humiliation and of mourning, 



r> 


AIAIOY. 


is rightly coiisidcrcd by all a day of triuinpli and of feast¬ 
ing; for, has it not proved, in the very teeth of the Ishmael- 
ites, that the sceptre has not yet departed from Jacob ?’ 

‘ I pray you, uncle, speak not of these things. I would 
not mllingly forget you are my kinsman, and a kind one. 
Let there not be strife between us. What my feelings are 
is nothing. They are my own: I cannot change them. 
And for my ancestors, if they pondered much, and achieved 
little, why then ’twould seem our pedigree is pure, and I 
am their true son. At least one was a hero.’ 

‘ Ah ! the great Alroy ; you may well bo proud of such 
an ancestor.’ 

‘ I am ashamed, uncle, ashamed, ashamed.’ 

‘ His sceptre still exists. At least, I have not betrayed 
him. And this brings me to the real purport of our inter¬ 
view. That sceptre I would return.’ 

‘ To whom ? 

‘ To its right owner, to yom'self.’ 

‘ Oh ! no, no, no; I pray you, I pray you not. I do en¬ 
treat you, sir, forget that I have a right as utterly as I 
disclaim it. That sceptre, you have wielded it wisely and 
well; I beseech you keep it. Indeed, good uncle, I have 
no sort of talent for all the busy duties of tliis post.’ 

‘ You sigh tor glory, yet you fly from toil.’ 

‘ Toil without glory is a menial’s lot.’ 

‘ You are a boy; 5mu may yet live to learn that the 
sweetest lot of life consists in tranquil duties and well- 
earned repose.’ 

‘ If my lot bo repose, I’U find it in a lair.’ 

‘ Ah ! David, David, there is a wildness in your temper, 
boy, that makes me often tremble. You are already too 
much alone, child. And for this, as well as weightier 
reasons, I am desirous that you should at length assume 
the office you inherit. What my poor experience can afford 
to aid you, as your counsellor, I shall ever proffer ; and, for 
the rest, our God will not desert you, an orphan child, and 
born of royal blood.’ 

‘ Pr’ythee, no more, kind uncle. I have but little heart 


ALEOY. 


7 


to mount a throne, which, only ranks me as the first of 
slaves.’ 

‘ Pooh, pooh, you are young. Live we like slaves ? Is 
this hall a servile ckamher ? These costly carpets, and 
these rich, divans, in what proud liarem shall we find tlieir 
matcli ? I feel not like a slave. My coffers are full of 
dii'hems. Is that slavish ? The wealthiest company of the 
caravan is ever Bostenay’s. Is that to be a slave ? Walk 
the bazaar of Bagdad, and you will find my name more 
potent than the Caliph’s. Is that a badge of slavery ? ’ 

‘ Uncle, you toil for others.’ 

‘ So do we all, so does the bee, yet he is free and happy.’ 

‘ At least he has a sting.’ 

‘ Which he can use but once, and when he stings-’ 

‘ He dies, and hke a hero. Such a death is sweeter than 
his honey.’ 

‘ Well, well, you are young, you are young. I once, too, 
had fancies. Dreams all, dreams all. I willingly would see 
you happy, child. Come, let that face brighten; after all, 
to-day is a great day. If you had seen what I have seen, 
David, you too would feel grateful. Come, let us feast. 
Tdie Ishmaelite, the accursed child of Hagar, ho does con- 
less to-day that 3^ou are a prince; this day also you com¬ 
plete your eighteenth year. The custom of our people now 
i-equires that you should assume the attributes of manhood. 
To-day, then, your reign commences ; and at our festival I 
will present the elders to their prince. For a while fare¬ 
well, my child. Array that face in smiles. I shall most 
anxiously await your presence.’ 

‘Farewell, sir.’ 

He turned his head and watched his uncle as he departed: 
the bitter expression of his countenance gradually melted 
away as Bostenay disappeared : dejection succeeded to 
sarcasm; he sighed, he threw himself upon a couch and 
buried his face in his hands. 

Suddenly he ai’ose and paced the chamber with an irre¬ 
gular and moody step. He stopped, and leant against a 
column. He spoke in a tremulous and smothered voice. 



8 


ALEOY. 


‘ Oh ! my heart is full of care, and my soul is dark with 
sorrow ! What am I ? What is all this ? A cloud hangs 
heavy o’er my life. God of my fathers, let it burst! 

‘ I know not what I feel, yet wdiat I feel is madness. 
Thus to be is not to live, if life be what I sometimes dream, 
and dare to think it might be. To breathe, to feed, to 
sleep, to wake and breathe again, again to feel existence 
without hope; if this be life, why then these brooding 
thoughts that whisper death were better ? 

‘ Away ! The demon tempts me. But to what ? What 
nameless deed shall desecrate this hand ? It must not be : 
the royal blood of twice two thousand years, it must not 
die, die like a dream. Oh ! my heart is full of care, and 
my soul is dark with sorrow ! 

* Hark ! the trumpets that sound our dishonour. 01 ), 
that they but sounded to battle ! Lord of Hosts, let me 
conquer or die ! Let me conquer like David; or die. Lord, 
like Saul! 

‘ Why do I live ? Ah ! could the thought that lurks 
within my secret heart but answer, not that trumpet’s blast 
could speak as loud or clear. The votary of a false idea, I 
linger in this shadowy life, and feed on silent images which 
no eye but mine can gaze upon, till at length they are in¬ 
vested with all the terrible circumstance of life, and breathe, 
and act, and form a stirring world of fate and beauty, time, 
and death, and glory. And then, from out this dazzling 
wilderness of deeds, I wander forth and wake, and find 
myself in this dull house of bondage, even as I do now. 
Horrible ! horrible ! 

‘ God of my fathers ! for indeed I dare not style thee God 
of their wretched sons ; yet, by the memory of Sinai, let 
me tell thee that some of the antique blood yet beats within 
these pulses, and there yet is one who fain would commune 
witli thee face to face, commune and conquer. 

‘ And if the promise unto which "we cling be not a clieat, 
why, let him come, come, and come quickty, for th}’- servant 
Israel, Lord, is now a slave so infamous, so w'oe-begone, and 
so contemned, that even when our fathers hung their harps 


ALKOY. 


9 


l.iy tlie sad waters of the Babylonian stream, why, it was 
paradise compared v.dth what we suffer. 

‘ Alas ! they do not suffer; they endure and do not feel. 
Or by this time our shadowy cherubim would guard again 
the ark. It is the will that is the father to the deed, and 
he who broods over some long idea, however wild, will find 
his dream was but the prophecy of coming fate. 

‘ And even now a vivid flash darts through the darkness 
of my mind. Methinks, methinks ; ah ! worst of woes to 
dream of glory in despair. No, no; I live and die a most 
ignoble thing; beauty and love, and fame and mighty 
deeds, the smile of women and the gaze of men, and the 
ennobling consciousness of worth, and all the fiery course 
of the creative passions, these are not for me, and I, Alroy, 
the descendant of sacred kings, and with a soul that pants 
for empire, I stand here extending my vain arm for my lost 
sceptre, a most dishonoured slave ! And do I still exist ? 
Exist! ay, merrily. Hark ! Festivity holds her fair revel 
in these light-hearted walls. We are gay to-day ; and yet, 
ere yon proud sun, whose mighty course was stayed before 
our swords that now he even does not deign to shine upon; 
ere jmn j)roud sun shall, like a hero from a glorious field, 
enter the bright pavilion of his rest, there shall a deed be 
done. 

‘ My fathers, my heroic fathers, if this feeble arm cannot 
redeem your heritage; if the foul boar must still wallow in 
thy sweet vineyard, Israel, at least I will not disgrace you. 
No! let me perish. The house of David is no more; no 
more our sacred seed shall lurk and linger, like a blighted 
thing, in this degenerate earth. If we cannot flourish, 
wliy then we will die ! ’ 

‘ Oh ! say not so, my brother ! ’ 

He turns, he gazes on a face beauteous as a starry night; 
Jiis heart is full, his voice is low. 

‘ Ah, Miriam ! thou queller of dark spirits! is it thou ? 
AVlnr art thou here ? ’ 

‘Why am I here? Arc you not licre? and need I urge 
a stronger plea? Oli! brother dear, I pray you come, and 


10 


ALROY. 


iiiingle in onr festival! Our walls are Rung with flowers 
you love ; ^ I culled them hy the fountain’s side ; the holy 
lamps are trimmed and set, and you must raise their earliest 
flame. Without the gate, my maidens wait, to offer you a ^ 
robe of state. Then, brother dear, I pray you come and 
mingle in our festival.’ 

‘ Why should we feast ? ’ 

‘ Ah! is it not in thy dear name these lamps are lit, 
these garlands hung? To-day to us a prince is given, 
to-day-’ 

‘ A prince without a kingdom.’ 

‘ But not without that which makes kingdoms precious, 
and which full many a royal heart has sighed for, willing 
subjects, David.’ 

‘ Slaves, Miriam, fellow-slaves.’ 

‘ What we are, my brother, our God has willed; and let 
us bow and tremble.’ 

‘ I will not bow, I cannot tremble.’ 

‘ Hush, David, hush! It was this haughty spirit that 
called the vengeance of the Lord upon us.’ 

‘It was this haughty spirit that conquered Canaan.’ 

‘ Oh, my brother, my dear brother! they told me the dark 
spirit had fallen on thee, and I came, and hoped that Miriam 
might have charmed it. What we have been, Alroy, is a 
bright dream ; and what we may be, at least as bright a 
hope ; and for what we are, thou art my brother. In thy 
love I find present felicity, and value more thy chance 
embraces and thy scanty smiles than all the vanished splen¬ 
dour of our race, cur gorgeous gardens, and om* glittering 
halls.’ 

‘ Who waits without there ? ’ 

‘Caleb.’ 

‘Caleb?’ 

‘My Lord.’ 

‘ Go tell my uncle that I will presently join the banquet. 
Leave me a moment, Miriam. Nay, dry those tears.’ 

‘ Ob, Alroy ! they are not tears of sorrow.’ 

‘ God be with thee ! Thou art the charm and consolation 
of my life. Farewell! farewell! ’ 



ALKOY. 


11 


‘ I do obacrve the influence of women very potent over 
me. ’Tis not of such stufl* that they make heroes. I know 
not love, save that 23U-re afiection which doth subsist 
between me and this girl, an orphan and my sister. We 
are so alike, that when, last Passover, in mimicry she 
twined my turban round her head, our uncle called her 
David. 

‘The daughters of my tribe, they please me not, thougli 
they are j)assing fair. Were our sons as brave as they are 
beautiful, we still might dance on Sion. Yet have I often 
thought that, could I pillow this moody brow upon some 
snowy bosom that were my own, and dwell in the ’wilder¬ 
ness, far from the sight and ken of man, and all the care 
and toil and wretchedness that groan and sweat and sigh 
about me, I might haply lose this deep sensation of over¬ 
whelming woe that broods upon by being. No matter! 
Life is but a dream, and mine must bo a dull one.’ 


CHAPTER II. 

Without the gates of Hamadan, a short distance from 
the city, was an enclosed piece of elevated ground, in tlie 
centre of which rose an ancient sej^ulchre, the traditionary 
tomb of Esther and Mordecai.-^ This solemn and solitary 
spot was an accustomed haunt of Alroy, and thither, escaj)- 
ing from the banquet, about an hour before sunset, he this 
day repaired. 

As he unlocked the massy gate of the burial-place, he 
heard behind him the tramjDling of a horse ; and before he 
had again secured the entrance, some one shouted to him. 

He looked up, and recognised the youthful and voluptuous 
Alschiroch, the governor of the city, and brother of the 
sultan of the Seljuks. He was attended only by a single 
running footman, an Arab, a detested favourite, and noto¬ 
rious minister of his pleasures. 

• ^ Dos:! ’ exclaimed the irritated Aischmoch, ‘ art thou deaf, 
or obstinate, or both? Are we to call twice to our slaves? 
Unlock that gate ! ’ 



12 


ALROY. 


‘ Wherefore? ’ inquired Alroy. 

‘ Wherefore ! By the holy Prophet he bandies questions 
with us ! Unlock that gate, or thy head' shall answer for 
it! ’ 

‘ Who art thou,’ inquired Alroy, ‘ whose voice is so loud? 
Art thou some holiday Turk, who hath transgressed the 
orders of thy Prophet, and drunken aught but water? Go 
to, or I will summon thee before thy Cadiand, so saying, 
he turned towards the tomb. 

‘ By the eyes of my mother, the dog jeers ns ! But th.at 
we are already late, and this horse is like an untamed tiger, 
I would impale him on the spot. Speak to the dog, Mus- 
tapha ! manage him ! ’ 

‘Worthy Hebrew,’ said the silky Mustapha, advancing, 
apparently you are not aware that this is our Lord Als- 
cliiroch. His highness would fain walk his horse through 
the burial-ground of thy excellent 23eo2:)le, as he is obliged 
to repair, on urgent matters, to a holy Santon, who sojourns 
on the other side of the hill, and time presses.’ 

‘ If this be our Lord Alschiroch, thou doubtless art his 
faithful slave, Mustapha.’ 

‘ I am, indeed, his poor slave. What then, young 
master? ’ 

‘ Deem thyself lucky that the gate is closed. It was but 
yesterday thou didst insult the sister of a servant of my 
house. I would not willingly sully my hands with such 
miserable blood as thine, but away, Avretch, away ! ’ 

‘Holy Prophet! Avho is this dog? ’ exclaimed the aston¬ 
ished governor. 

‘ ’Tis the young Alroy,’ whispered Mustapha, who had 
not at first recognised him; ‘ he they call their Prince ; a 
most headstrong youth. My lord, Ave had better proceed.’ 

‘ The young Alroy! I mark him. They must have a 
prince too ! The young Alroy ! Well, let us aAvay, and, 
dog ! ’ shouted Alschiroch, rising in his stirrups, and shak¬ 
ing his hand Avith a threatening air, ‘ dog ! remember thy 
tribute ! ’ 

Alroy rushed to the gate, but the niassy lock Avas sIoav to 


ALROY. 


]3 

open; and ere lie could succeed, the fiery steed had borne 
Alschiroch beyond pursuit. 

An expression of baffled rage remained for a moment on 
his countenance; for a moment he remained with his eager 
eye fixed on the route of his vanished enemy, and then he 
walked slowly towards the tomb; but his excited temper 
was now little in unison with the still reverie in which ho 
had repaired to the sepulchre to indulge. He was restless 
and disquieted, and at length he wandered into the woods, 
which rose on the summit of the burial-place. 

He found himself upon a brow crested with young pine- 
trees, in the midst of which rose a mighty cedar. Ho 
threw himself beneath its thick and shadowy branches, and 
looked upon a valley small and green ; in the midst of 
which ^vas a marble fountain, the richly-carved cupola,■* 
supjDorted by twisted columns, and banded by a broad in¬ 
scription in Hebrew characters. The bases of the white 
pillars were covered with wild flowers, or hidden by beds of 
variegated gourds. The transparent sunset flung over the 
whole scene a soft but brilliant light. 

The tranquil hour, the beauteous scene, the sweetness 
and the stillness blending their odour and serenity, the 
gentle breeze that softly rose, and summoned forth the 
languid birds to cool their plumage in the twilight air, and 

wave their radiant wings in skies as bright- Ah ! what 

stern spirit will not yield to the soft genius of subduing 
Eve? 

And Alroy gazed upon the silent loneliness of earth, and 
a tear stole down his haughty cheek. 

‘ ’Tis singular ! but when I am thus alone at this still 
hour, I ever fancy I gaze upon the Land of Promise. And 
often, in my dreams, some sunny spot, the bright memorial 
of a rovmg'hour, will rise upon my sight, and, when I wake, 
I feel as if I had been in Canaan. Why am I not? The 
caravan that boars my uncle’s goods across the Desert would 
bear me too. Hut I rest here, my miserable life running to 
seed in the dull misery of this wretched city, and do nothing. 
Wiiy ! the old captivity was empire to our inglorious bond- 



14 


ALROY. 


age. We have no Esther now to share their thrones, no 
politic Mordecai, no purplervested Daniel. 0 Jerusalem, 
Jerusalem! I do believe one sight of thee would nerve 
me to the sticking-point. And yet to gaze upon thj fallen 
state, my uncle tells me that of the Temple not a stone 
remains. ’Tis horrible. Is there no hope? ’ 

‘ The bricks are fallen, bet we will rebuild with :marele ; 

THE SYCAMORES ARE CUT DO^VN■, BUT WE WILL REPLACE THEM WITH 
CEDARS.’ 

‘ The chorus of our maidens, as they pay their evening 
visit to the fountain’s side.® The burden is prophetic. 

‘ Hark again ! How beautifully, upon the soft and flow¬ 
ing air, their sweet and mingled voices blend and float! ’ 

‘ Yet AGAIN I WILL BUn.D THEE, AND THOU SHALT BE BUILT, 

0 Virgin of Israel ! Y'et again shalt thou deck thyself 
WI l'H thy tabrets, and go forth in the dance of those that 
make merry. Yet again shalt thou plant vineyards on the 

MOUNTAINS OF SaMARLV.’ 

‘ See! their white forms break through the sparkling 
foliage of the sunny shrubs as they descend, with measured 
step, that mild declivity. A fair society in bright proces¬ 
sion : each one clothed in solemn drapery, veiling her 
shadowy face with modest hand, and bearing on her graceful 
head a graceful vase. Their leader is my sister. 

‘ And now they reach the fountain’s side, and dip their 
vases in the water, pure and beauteous as themselves. Some 
repose beneath the marble pillars ; some, seated ’mid the 
flowers, gather sweets, and twine them into garlands; and 
that wild girl, now that the order is broke, touches with 
light fingers her moist vase, and showers startling drops of 
glittering light on her serener sisters. Hark ! aga’n they 
sing.’ 

‘ 0 VINE OF SiBMAH ! UPON THY SUMMER FRUITS, AND UPON 
THY VINTAGE, A SPOILER HATH FxVLLEN ! ’ 

A scream, a shriek, a long Avild shriek, confusion, flight, 



ALEOY, 


15 


despair! Behold! from out the woods a turhaned man 
rushes, and seizes the leader of the chorus. Her companions 
fly on all sides, Miriam alone is left in the arms of Alschiroch. 

The water column wildly rising from the breast of sum¬ 
mer ocean, in some warm tropic clime, wdien the sudden 
clouds too w’ell discover that the holiday of heaven is over, 
and the shrieking sea-birds tell a time of fierce commotion, 
the column rising from the sea, it was not so wild as he, the 
young Alroy. 

Pallid and mad, he swift upsprang, and he tore up a tree 
by its lusty roots, and down the declivity, dashing with 
rapid leaps, panting and wild, he struck the ravisher on the 
temple wuth the mighty pine. Alschiroch fell lifeless on 
the sod, and Miriam fainting into her brother’s arms. 

And there he stood, fixed and immovable, gazing upon 
his sister’s deathly face, and himself exhausted by passion 
and his exploit, supporting her cherished but senseless body. 

One of the fugitive maidens appeared reconnoitring in the 
distance. When she observed her mistress in the arms of 
one of her own people, her courage revived, and, desirous of 
rallying her scattered companions, she raised her voice, and 
sang : 

‘ Haste, daughters of Jerusalem ; 0 ! haste, for the 
Lord has avenged us, and the spoiler is spoiled.’ 

And soon the verse was responded to from various quar¬ 
ters of the woods, and soon the virgins re-assembled, 
singing, 

‘ We come, 0 DAUGHTER OF JERUSALEM ! WE COME ; FOR THE 

Lord has avenged us, and the spoiler is spoiled.’ 

They gathered round their mistress, and one loosened her 
veil, and another brought water from the fountain, and 
sprinkled her reviving countenance. And Miriam opened 
her eyes, and said, ‘ My brother ! ’ And he answered, ‘ I 
am here.’ And she replied in a low voice, ‘ Fly, David, fly ; 
for the man you have stricken is a prince among the people.’ 

‘ He will be merciful, my sister; and, doubtless, since he 
first erred, by this time he has forgotten my offence.’ 


16 


ALEOY. 


‘ Justice and mercy ! Oli, my brother, Avliatcan these foul 
tyrants know of either ! Already he has perhaps doomed 

yon to some refined and procrastinated torture, already- 

Ah! what unutterable woe is mine ! fly, my brother, fly ! ’ 

‘ Fly, fly, fly ! ’ 

‘ There is no fear, my Miriam ; would all his accursed race 
could trouble us as little as their sometime ruler. See, ho 
sleeps soundly. But his carcass shall not defile our fresh 
fountain, and our fragrant flowers. I’ll stow it in the woods, 
nnd stroll hero at night to listen to the jackals at their 
banquet.’ 

‘ You speak wildly, David. What I Yo 1 It is impossible! 
He is not dead I You have not slain him ! He sleeps, ho 
is afraid. He mimics death, that we may leave his side, 
and he may rise again in safety. Girls, look to him. David, 
you do not answer. Brother, dear brother, surely he has 
swooned I I thought he had fled. Bear water, maidens, to 
that terrible man. I dare not look upon him.’ 

‘Away! I’ll look on him, and I’ll triumph. Dead! 
Alschiroch dead 1 Why, but a moment since, this clotted 
carcass was a prince, my tyrant 1 So we can rid ourselves 
of them, eh ? If the prince fall, why not the people ? 
Dead, absolutely dead, and I his slayer ! Hah ! at length 
I am a man. This, this indeed is life. Let me live slaying ! ’ 

‘ Woe 1 woe! our house is fallen ! The wildness of his 
gestures frightens me. David, David, I pray thee cease. 
He hears me not; my voice, perchance, is thin. I am very 
faint. Maidens, kneel to your Prince, and soothe the mad¬ 
ness of his passion.’ 

‘ Sweet is the voice of a sister in the season of sorrow, 
AND wise is the COUNSEL OF THOSE WHO LOVE US ’ 

‘ Why, this is my Goliath ! a pebble or a stick, it is the 
same. The Lord of Hosts is with us. Rightly am I called 
David.’ 

‘Deliver us from our enemies, 0 Lord I from those who 

RISE UP AGAINST US, AND 1’HOSE WHO LIE IN WAIT FOR US.’ 



ALROY. 


17 


‘ AYcre but tins blow multiplied, were but tlie servants of 
my uncle’s bouse to do tlie same, why we should see again 
the days of Elah ! The Philistine, the foul, lascivious, dam¬ 
nable Philistine ! and he must touch my sister ! Oh ! that 
all his tribe were here, all, all! I’d tie such firebrands to 
their foxes’ tails, the blaze should light to freedom ! ’ 

AA^hile he spoke, a maiden, who had not yet rejoined the 
company, came running towards them swiftly with an agi¬ 
tated countenance. 

‘ Fly,’ she exclaimed, ‘ they come, they come ! ’ 

Miriam was reclining in an attendant’s arms, feeble and 
faint, but the moment her quick ear caught these words 
she sprang up, and seized her brother’s arm. 

‘ Alroy ! David ! brother, dear brother ! I beseech thee, 
listen, I am thy sister, thy Miriam; they come, they come, 
the hard-hearted, wicked men, they come, to kill, perhaps 
to torture thee, my tender brother. Rouse thyself, David ; 
rouse thyself from this wuld, fierce dream: save thyself, fly! ’ 
‘ Ah ! is it thou, Miriam ? Thou seest he sleepeth soundly. 
I was dreaming of noble purposes and mighty hopes. ’Tis 
over now. I am myself again. AYhat wouldst thou ? ’ 

‘ They come, the fierce retainers of this fallen man ; they 
come, to seize thee. Fly, David ! ’ 

‘ And leave thee ? ’ 

‘ I and my maidens, we have yet time to escape by the 
private way we entered, our uncle’s garden. AYhen in his 
house, we are for a moment safe, as safe as our poor race can 
ever be. Bostenay is so rich, so wise, so prudent, so learned 
in man’s ways, and knows so well the character and spirit 
of these men, all will go right; I fear nothing. But thou, 
if thou art here, or to be found, thy blood alone will satiate 
them. If they be persuaded that thou hast escaped, as I 
yet pray thou mayest, their late master here, whom they 
could scarcely love, why, give me thy arm an instant, sweet 
Beruna. So, that’s well. I was saying, if well bribed, and 
they may have all my jewels, why, very soon, he will be as 
little in their memories as he is now in life. I can scarcely 
speak; I feel my words wander, or seem to wander ; I could 

C 


18 


Al-Boy. 


swoon, but will not; nay! do not fear. I will reach home. 
These maidens are my charge. ’Tis in these crises we should 
show the worth of royal blood. I’ll see them safe, or die 
Avith them.’ 

‘ 0 ! my sister, niethinks I never knew I was a brother 
until this houi-. Mj precious Miriam, what is life ? what is 
revenge, or even fame and freedom without thee? I’ll stay.’ 

‘ Sweet is the voice of a sister in the season of sorrow, 

AND WISE IS THE COUNSEL OF THOSE WHO LOVE US.’ 

‘ Fly, David, fly! ’ 

‘ Fly ! whither and how ? ’ 

The neigh of a horse sounded from the thicket. 

‘Ah ! they come ! ’ exclaimed the distracted Miriam. 

‘ All this has come upon us, 0 Lord ! yet have we not 

fORGOTTEN THEE, NEITHER HAVE WE DEALT FALSELY IN THY 
COVENANT.’ 

. ‘ Hark ! again it neighs ! It is a horse that calleth to its 
rider. I see it. Courage, Miriam! it is no enemy, but a 
very present friend in time of trouble. It is Alschiroch’s 
courser. He passed me on it by the toinb ere sunset. I 
marked it well, a very princely steed.’ 

‘Behold, behold, a ram is caught; the thicket by his 

HORNS.’ 

‘ Our God hath not forgotten us! Quick, maidens, bring 
forth the goodly steed. What! do you tremble ? I’ll be 
his groom.’ 

‘ Hay! Miriam, beware, beware. It is an untamed beast, . 
wild as the whirlwind. Let me deal with him.’ 

He ran after her, dashed into the thicket, and brought 
forth the horse. 

Short time I ween that stately steed had parted from 
his desert home; his haughty crest, his eye of fire, the 
glory of his snoiding nostril, betokened well his conscious 
pride, and pure nobility of race. His colour was like the 
sable night shining ’udth a thousand stars, and he pawed 


ALEOY. 


19 


the ground with his delicate hoof, like an eagle flapping its 
wing. 

Alroy vaulted on his hack, and reined him with a master’s 
hand. 

‘ Hah! ’ he exclaimed, ‘ I feel more like a hero than a 
fugitive. Farewell, my sister; farewell, ye gentle maidens; 
fare ye well, and cherish my precious Miriam. One em¬ 
brace, sweet sister,’ and he bent down and whispered, 
‘ Tell the good Bpstenay not to spare his gold, for I have 
a deep persuasion that, ere a year shall roll its heavy 
course, I shall return, and make our masters here pay 
for this hurried ride and bitter parting. How for the 
desert! ’ 



20 


ALliOy. 


PART 11. 


CHAPTER I. 

Speed, fleetly speed, thou courser bold, and track the 
desert’s trackless way. Beneath thee is the boundless 
earth, above thee is the boundless heaven, an iron soil and 
brazen sky. Speed, swiftly speed, tbou courser bold, and 
track the desert’s trackless way. 

Ah ! dost thou deem these salty plains ^ lead to thy Te- 
nien’s hapj)y groves, and dost thou scent on the hot breeze 
the spicy breath of Araby? A sweet delusion, noble steed, 
for this briny wilderness leads not to the happy groves of 
Yemen, and the breath thou scentest on the coming breeze 
is not the spicy breath of Araby. 

The day has died, the stars have risen, with all the 
splendour of a desert sky, and now the Hight descending 
brings solace on her dewy wings to the fainting form and 
pallid cheek of the youthful Hebrew Prince. 

Still the courser onward rushes, still his mighty heart 
supports him. Season and space, the glowing soil, the 
burning ray, yield to the tempest of his frame ; the thunder 
of his nerves, and lightning of Lis veins. 

Pood or water they have none. Ho genial fount, no 
graceful tree, rise with their pleasant company. Hever a 
beast or bird is there, in that hoary desert bare. Hothing 
breaks the almighty stillness. Even the jackal’s felon cry 
might seem a soothing melody. A grey wild rat, with 
snowy whiskers, out of a withered bramble stealing, with a 
youthful snake in its ivory teeth, in the moonlight grins 
with gleo. This is their sole society. 

Morn comes, the fresh and fiugrant niurn, for which even 



ALROY. 


21 


the gnilty sigli. Mom comes, and all is visible. And light 
falls like a signet on the earth, and its face is turned like 
wax beneath a seal. Before them and also on their right 
was the sandy desert; but in the night they had approached 
much nearer to the mountainous chain, which bounded the 
desert on the left, and whither Alroy had at first guided the 
steed. 

The mountains were a chain of the mighty Elburz ; and, 
as the sun rose from behind a lofty peak, the horse suddenly 
stopped and neighed, as if asking for water. But Alroy, 
himself exhausted, could only soothe him with caresses. 
And the horse, full of courage, understood his master, and 
neighed again more cheerfully. 

For an hour or two the Prince and his faithful companion 
proceeded slowly, but, as the day advanced, the heat be¬ 
came so oppressive, and the desire to drink so overwhelm¬ 
ing, that Alroy again urged on the steed towards the 
mountains, where he knew that he should find a well. 
The courser dashed willingly forward, and seemed to share 
his master’s desire to quit the arid aud exhausting wil¬ 
derness. 

More than once the unhappy fugitive debated whether 
he should not allow himself to drop from his seat and die; 
no torture that could await him at Hamadan, but seemed 
preferable to the prolonged and inexpressible anguish 
which he now endured. As he rushed along, leaning on 
his bearer’s neck, he perceived a patch of the desert that 
seemed of a darker colour than the surrounding sand. 
Here, he believed, might perhaps be found water. He 
tried to check the steed, but with difficulty he succeeded, 
and with still greater difficulty dismounted. He knelt 
down, and feebly raked up the sand with his hands. It 
was moist. He nearly fainted over his fruitless labour. 
At length, when he had dug about afoot deep, there bubbled 
up some water. He dashed in his hand, but it was salt 
as the ocean. When the horse saw the water his ears rose, 
but, when he smelt it, he turned away his head, and neighed 
most piteously. 


22 


ALROY. 


‘ Alas, poor beast! ’ exclaimed Alroy, ‘ I am the occasion 
of tbj suffering, I, who would be a kind master to thee, if 
the world would let me. Oh, that we were once more by 
my own fair fountain ! The thought is madness. And 
Miriam too ! I fear I am sadly tender-hearted.’ He leant 
against his horse’s back, with a feeling of utter exhaustion, 
and burst into hysteric sobs. 

And the steed softly moaned, and turned its head, and 
gently rubbed its face against his arm, as if to solace him 
in his suffering. And strange, but Alroy was relleyed by 
having given way to his emotion, and, charmed with the 
fondness of the faithful horse, he leant down and took water, 
and threw it over its feet to cool them, and wiped the foam 
from its face, and washed it, and the horse again neighed. 

And now Alroy tried to remount, but his strength failed 
him, and the horse immediately knelt down and received 
him. And the moment that the Prince was in his seat, 
the horse rose, and again proceeded at a rapid pace in their 
old direction. Towards sunset they were within a few 
miles of the broken and rocky ground into v/hich the 
mountains descended ; and afar off Alroy recognised the 
cupola of the long-expected well. With re-animated courage 
nnd rallied energies he patted his courser’s neck, and pointed 
in the direction of the cupola, and the horse pricked up its 
ears, and increased its pace. 

Just us the sun set, they reached the well. Alroy 
jumped off the horse, and would have led it to the fountain, 
but the animal would not advance. It stood shivering 
with a glassy eye, and then with a groan fell down and 
died. 


CHAPTER H. 

Hight brings rest; night brings solace; rest to the wearv, 
solace to the sad. And to the desperate night brings 
despair. 

The moon has sunk to early rest; but a thousand stars 
are in the sky. The mighty mountains rise severe in the 



AI.EOY. 


23 


clear and silent air. In the forest all is still. The tired 
wind no longor roams, but has lightly dropped on its leafy 
conch, and sleeps like man. Silent all but the fountain’s 
drip. And by the fountain’s side a youth is lying. 

Suddenly a creature steals through the black and broken 
rocks. Ha, ha! the jackal smells from afar the rich cor¬ 
ruption of the courser’s clay. Suddenly and silently it 
steals, and stops, and smells. Brave banqueting I ween 
to-night for all that goodly company. Jackal, and fox, 
and marten-cat, haste ye now, ere morning’s break shall 
call the vulture to his feast and rob you of your prey. 

The jackal lapped the courser’s blood, and moaned with 
exquisite delight. And in a moment, a faint bark was 
heard in the distance. And the jackal peeled the flesh from 
one of the ribs, and again burst into a shriek of mournful 
ecstasy. 

Hark, their quick tramp! First six, and then three, 
galloping •with ungodly glee. And a marton-cat came rush¬ 
ing down from the woods; but the jackals, fierce in their 
number, drove her away, and there she stood without the 
circle, panting, beautiful, and baffled, with her white teeth 
and glossy skin, and sparkling eyes of rabid rage.^ 

Suddenly as one of the half-gorged jackals retired from 
the main corpse, dragging along a stray member by some 
still palpitating nerves, the marten-cat made a spring at 
her enemy, carried off his prey, and rushed into the woods. 

Her wild scream of triumph woke a lion from his lair. 
His mighty form, black as ebony, moved on a distant emi¬ 
nence, his tad flowed like a serpent. He roared, and the 
jackals trembled, and immediately ceased from their ban¬ 
quet, turning their heads in the direction of their sovereign’s 
voice. He advanced ; he stalked towards them. They re¬ 
tired ; he bent his head, examined the carcass with conde¬ 
scending curiosity, and instantly quitted it with royal dis¬ 
dain. The jackals again collected around their garbage. 
The lion advanced to the fountain to drink. He beheld a 
man. His mane rose, his tail was wildly agitated, he bent 
over the sleeping Prince, he uttered an awTul roar, which 
awoko Alroy. 


24 


ALEOY. 


CHAPTER III. 

He awoke; his gaze met the flaming eyes of the enormous 
beast fixed upon him with a blended feeling of desire and 
surprise. He awoke, and from a swoon ; but the dreamless 
trance had refreshed the exhausted energies of the desolate 
wanderer ; in an infant he collected his senses, remembered 
all that had passed, and comprehended his present situation. 
He returned the lion a glance as imperious, and fierce, and 
scrutinising, as his own. For a moment, their flashing orbs 
vied in regal rivalry; but at length the spirit of the mere 
animal yielded to the genius of the man. The lion, cowed, 
slunk away, stalked with haughty timidity througli the 
rocks, and then sprang into the forest. 


CHAPTER IV. 

!Moen breaks ; a silver light is shed over the blue and starry 
sky. Pleasant to feel is the breath of dawn. Night brings 
repose, but day brings joy. 

The carol of a lonely bird singing in the Avilderness ! A 
lonely bird that sings with glee ! Sunny and SAveet, and 
light and clear, its airy notes float through the sky, and 
trill Avith innocent rcAmlry. 

The lonely youth on the lonely bird upgazes from the 
fountain’s side. High in the air it jDroudly floats, balancing 
its crimson wings, and its snoAvy tail, long, delicate, and 
thin, shines like a sparkling meteor in the sun. 

Tlie carol of a lonely bird singing in the wilderness ! Sud¬ 
denly it doAViiAvard dashes, and thrice AA'ith circling grace it 
flies around the head of the HebrcAV Prince. Then by his 
side it gently drops a bunch of fresh and fragrant dates. 

’Tis gone, ’tis gone ! that cheerful stranger, gone to the 
palmy land it loA^es ; gone like a bright and pleasant dream. 
A moment since and it Avas there, glancing in the sunny 
air, and now the sky is Avithout a guest. Alas, alas ! no 
more is heard the carol of that lonely bird singing iu the 
wilderness. 



ALliOY. 


25 


.. CHAPTER V. 

* As thou didst feed Elijah, so also hast thou fed me, God 
of my fathers ! ’ And Alroy arose, and he took his turban 
and unfolded it, and knelt and prayed. And then he ate of 
the dates, and drank of the fountain, and, full of confidence 
in the God of Israel, the descendant of David pursued his 
flight. 

He now commenced the ascent of the mountainous 
chain, a A^earisome and painful toil. Two hours past noon 
he reached the summit of the first ridge, and looked over a 
wild and chaotic waste full of precipices and ravines, and 
dark unfathomable gorges. The surrounding hills were 
ploughed in all directions by the courses of dried-up cata- 
i-acts, and here and there a few savan’e ofoats browsed on an 
occasional patch of lean and sour pasture. This waste ex¬ 
tended for many miles; the distance formed by a more ele¬ 
vated range of mountains, and beyond these, high in the 
blue sky, rose the loftiest peaks of Elburz,® shining with 
sharp glaciers of eternal snow. 

It was ap 2 ^arent that Alroy Tvas no stranger in the scene 
of his flight. He had never hesitated as to his course, and 
now, after having rested for a short time on the summit, he 
descended towards the left by a natural but intricate path, 
until his progress was arrested by a black ravine. Scarcely ^ 
half a dozen yards divided him from the opposite precipice 
by which it was formed, but the gulf beneath, no one could 
shoot a glance at its invisible termination without drawing 
back with a cold shudder. 

The Prince knelt down and examined the surrounding 
ground wdth great care. At length he raised a small square 
stone which covered a metallic plate, and, taking from his 
vest a carnelian talisman covered with strange characters, 
he knocked thrice uj)on the plate with the signet. A low 
solemn murmur sounded around. Presently the plate flew 
off, and Alroy pulled forth several yards of an iron chain, 
which he threw over to the opposite precqjice. The chain 
fastened without difficulty to the rock, and was evidently 


26 


AI.ROY. 


constrained bj some magnetic influence. The Prince, seiz¬ 
ing the chain with both his hands, now swung across the 
ravine. As ho landed, the chain parted from the rock, 
swiftly disappeared down the opposite aperture, and its 
covering closed with the same low, solemn murmur as 
before. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Alroy proceeded for about a hundred paces through a na¬ 
tural cloister of basalt until he arrived at a large uncovered 
court of the same formation, which a stranger might easily 
have been excused for believing to have been formed and 
smoothed by art. In its centre bubbled up a perpetual 
spring, icy cold; the stream had worn a channel through 
the pavement, and might be traced for some time wandering 
among the rocks, until at length it leaped from a precipice 
into a gorge below, in a gauzy shower of variegated spray. 
Crossing the court, Alroy now entered a vast cavern. 

The cavern was nearly circular in form, lighted from a 
large aperture in the top. Yet a burning lamp, in a dis¬ 
tant and murky corner, indicated that its inhabitant did not 
trust merely to this natural source of the great blessing of 
existence. In the centre of the cave was a circular and 
brazen table, sculptured with strange characters and myste¬ 
rious figures : near it was a couch, on which lay several 
volumes.^ Suspended from the walls were a shield, some 
bows and arrows, and other arms. 

As the Prince of the Captivity knelt down and Idssed the 
vacant couch, a figure advanced from the extremity of the 
cavern into the Hght. He was a man of middle age, con¬ 
siderably above the common height, with a remarkably 
athletic frame, and a strongly-marked but majestic counte¬ 
nance. His black beard descended to his waist, over a dark 
red robe, encircled by a black girdle embroidered with yel¬ 
low characters, like those sculptured on the brazen table. 
Black also was his turban, and black liis large and luminous 
eye. 



ALROY. 27 

The stranger advanced so sofbly, that Alroy did not per¬ 
ceive him, nntil the Prince again rose up. 

‘ Jahaster! ’ exclaimed the Prince. 

‘ Sacred seed of David,’ answered the Cahalist,^® Hhoii art 
expected. I read of thee in the stars last night. They 
spoke of trouble.’ 

‘ Trouble or triumph. Time must prove which it is, great 
master. At present I am a fugitive and exhausted. The 
bloodhounds track me, but methinks I have baffled them 
now. I have slain an Ishmaelite,* 


28 


.VLKOY. 


PAET III. 


CHAPTER I. 

It was midnight. Alroy slept upon the couch : his sloop 
was troubled. Jabaster stood by his side motionless, and 
gazing intently upon his slumbering guest. 

‘ The only hope of Israel,’ murmured the Cabalist, ‘ my 
pupil and my prince ! I have long perceived in his 3 ’-oung 
mind the seed of mighty deeds, and o’er his future life have 
often mused with a prophetic hope. The blood of David, 
the sacred offspring of a solemn race. There is a magic in 
his flowing veins nw science cannot reach. 

‘ When, in my youth, I raised our standard b}" my native 
Tigris, and called our nation to restore their ark, wh}', we 
were numerous, wealthy, potent; 'we were a people then, 
and the^r flocked to it boldly. Did we lack counsel? Did wo 
need a leader? Who can aver that Jabaster’s brain or arm 
was ever wanting ? And yet the dream dissolved, the glo¬ 
rious vision! Oh ! when I struck down Marvan, and the 
Caliph’s camp flung its blazing shadow over the bloody 
river, ah ! then indeed I lived. Twenty years of vigil may 
gain a pardon that I then forgot we lacked the chief ingre¬ 
dient in the spell, the blood that sleeps beside me. 

‘ I recall the glorious rapture of that sacred strife amid 
the rocks of Caucasus. A fugitive, a proscribed and out¬ 
lawed wretch, whose life is common sport, and whom the 
vilest hind may slay without a bidding. I, who would have 
been Messiah! 

‘ Burn thy books, Jabaster ; break thy brazen tables ; for¬ 
get th^^ lofty science, Cabalist, and read the stars no longer.’ ‘ ‘ 
]3ut last night, I stood upon the gulf which girds m 3 ’ dwell- 



ALROY. 


29 


ing : ill one liaiicl, I licld my sacred talisman, tliat bears tlie 
name inefiable; in the other, the mystic record of our holy 
race. I remembered that I had evoked spirits, that I had 
communed with the great departed, and that the glowing 
heavens were to me a natural language, I recalled, as con¬ 
solation to my gloomy soul, that never had my science been 
exercised but for a sacred or a noble purpose. And I re¬ 
membered Israel, my brave, my chosen, and my antique 
race, slaves, wretched slaves. I was strongly tempted to 
fling me down this perilous abyss, and end my learning and 
my life together. 

‘ But, as I gazed upon the star of David, a sudden halo 
rose around its rays, and ever and anon a meteor shot from 
out the silver veil. I read that there was trouble in the 
holy seed ; and now comes this boy, who has done a deed 
which-’ 

‘ The ark, the ark ! I gaze upon the ark ! ’ 

‘ The slumberer speaks ; the words of sleep are sacred.’ 

‘ Salvation only from the house of David.’ 

‘ A mighty truth ; my life too well has proved it.’ 

‘ He is more calm. It is the holy hour. I’ll steel into 
the court, and gaze upon the star that sways the fortunes 
of his royal house.’ 


CHAPTER II. 

The moonbeam fell upon the fountain ; the pavement of the 
court was a flood of light; the rocks rose dark around. Ja- 
baster, seated by the spring, and holding his talisman in his 
left hand, shaded his sight with the other as he gazed iT})on 
the luminous heavens. 

A shriek! his name was called. Alroy, wild and pant¬ 
ing, rushed into the court with extended arms. The Ca- 
balist started up, seized him, and held him in his careful 
grasp, foaming and in convulsions. 

‘ Jabastcr, Jabastci'! ’ 

‘ I am here, my child.’ 



30 


ALROY. 


‘ The Lord hath spoken.’ _ 

‘ The Lord is our refuge. Calm thyself, son of David, 
and tell me all.’ 

‘ I have been sleeping, master ; is it not so ? ’ 

‘ Even so, my child. Exhausted by his flight and the 
exciting narrative of his exploit, my Prince lay down upon 
the couch and slumbered; but I fear that slumber was not 
repose.’ 

‘ Pepose and I have nought in common now. Farewell 
for ever to that fatal word. I am the Lord’s anointed.’ 

‘ Drink of the fountain, David : it will restore thee.’ 

‘ Pestore the covenant, restore the ark, restore the holy 
city.’ 

‘ The Spirit of the Lord hath fallen upon him. Son of 
David, I adjure thee tell me all that hath passed. I am a 
Levite ; in my hand I hold the name inefiable.’ 

‘ Take thy trumpet then, summon the people, bid them 
swiftly raise again our temple. “ The bricks have fallen, 
but we will rebuild with marble.” Didst hear that chorus, 
sir ?’ 

‘ Unto thy chosen ear alone it sounded.’ 

‘Where am I? This is not our fountain.' Yet thou 
didst say, “ the fountain.” Think me not wdld. I know 
thee, I know all. Thou art not Miriam. Thou art Ja- 
baster ; I am Alroy. But thou didst say, “ the fountain,” 
and it distracted me, and called back my memory to-’ 

‘God of Israel, lo, I kneel before thee ! Here, in the 
solitude of wildest nature, my only witness here this holy 
man, I kneel and vow, Lord ! I will do thy bidding. I am 
young, 0 God! and weak ; but thou. Lord, art all-powerful! 
What God is like to thee ? Doubt not my courage. Lord ; 
and fill me with thy spmt! but remember, remember her, 
0 Lord ! remember Miriam. It is the only worldly thought 
I have, and it is pure.’ 

‘ Still of his sister, calm thyself, my son.’ 

‘ Holy master, thou dost remember when I was thy 
pupil in this cavern. Thou hast not forgotten those days 
ol tranquil study, those sweet, long 'wandering nights of 



ALROY. 


31 


sacred science ! I was dutiful, and hung upon each accent 
of thy lore with the devotion that must spring from love.’ 

‘ I cannot weep, Alroy ; hut, were it in my power, I 
would yield a tear of homage to the memory of those 
days.’ 

‘ Hov/ calmly have we sat on some high brow, and gazed 
upon the stars ! ’ 

‘ ’Tis very true, sweet child.’ 

‘ And if thou e’er didst chide me, ’twas half in jest, and 
only for my silence.’ 

‘ What would he now infer ? No matter, he grows 
calmer. How solemn is his visage in the moonhght! And 
3 'et not Solomon, upon his youthful throne, could look 
more beautiful.’ 

‘ I never told thee an untruth, Jabaster.’ 

‘ My life upon thy faith.’ 

‘ Fear not the pledge, and so believe me, on the moun¬ 
tain brow watching the starry heavens with thyself, I was 
not calmer than I feel, sir, now.’ 

‘ I do believe thee.’ 

‘ Then, Jabaster, believe as fully I am the Lord’s 
anointed.’ 

‘ Tell me all, my child.’ 

‘ Know, then, that sleeping on the couch within, my 
sleep was troubled. Many dreams I had, indefinite and 
broken. I recall none of them images, except I feel a dim 
sensation ’twas my lot to live in brighter days than now 
rise on our race. Suddenly I stood upon a mountain tall 
and grey, and gazed upon the stars. And, as I gazed, a 
trumpet sounded. Its note thrilled through my soul. 
Never have I heard a sound so awful. The thunder, when 
it broke over the cavern here, and shivered the peak, 
whose ruins lie around us, was but a feeble worldly sound 
to this almighty music. My cheek grew pale, I panted 
even for breath. A flaming light spread over the sky, the 
stars melted away, and I beheld, advancing horn the burst¬ 
ing radiancy, the foremost body of a mighty host. 

‘ Oh ! not when Saul led forth our fighting men against 


32 


ALPvOY. 


the Pliilistinc, not when Joab numbered the 'warriors of 
iny great ancestor, did human vision gaze upon a scene of 
so much martial splendour. Chariots and cavalry, and 
glittering trains of plumed warriors too robust to need a 
courser’s solace ; streams of shining spears, and banners 
like a sunset; reverend priests swinging their perfumed 
censers, and prophets hymning with their golden harps a 
most triumphant future. 

‘“Joy, joy,” they say, “to Israel, for he conieth, he 
cometh in his splendour and his might, the great Messiah 
of our ancient hopes.” 

‘ And, lo! a mighty chariot now appeared, drawn by 
strange beasts, whose forms were half obscured by the 
bright flames on which they seemed to float. In that 
glorious car a warrior stood, jn-oud and immovable his 
form, his countenance; hold my hand, Jabaster, while I 
speak, that chieftain Avas myself! ’ 

‘ Proceed, proceed, my son.’ 

‘ I started in my dream, and I awoke. I found myself 
U[)sitting on my couch. The pageantry had vanished. 
Aought Avas seen bnt the bright moonlight and the gloomy 
cave. And, as I sighed to think I e’er had Avakened, and 
mused upon the strangeness of my vision, a still small 
voice descended from above and called, “Alroy!” I 
started, but I ansAvered not. Methought it was my fancy. 
Again my name Avas called, and noAv I murmured, “ Lord, 
I am here, AA'hat wouldst thou ?” Nought responded, anel 
soon gTeat dread came oA^er me, and I rushed out and 
called to thee, my master.’ 

‘It Avas “the Daughter of the Voice that spake. 
Since the Captivity ’tis the only mode by Avhicli the saints 
are summoned. Oft have I lieai'd of it, but nev^er in these 
sad degenerate days has its soft aspiration fallen upon us. 
These are strange times and tidings. The building of the 
temple is at hand. Son of David, my heart is full. Let 
us to prayer ! ’ 


ALROY. 


33 


CHAPTER III. 

Day dawned upon JabaSter, still musing in solitude among 
Lis rocks. Within the cav^ern, Alroy remained in prayer. 

Often and anxiously the Cabalist shot a glance at his 
comjDanion, and then again relapsed into reverie. 

‘ The time is come that I must to this youth reveal the 
secrets of my early life. Much will he hear of glory, 
much of shame. Nought must I conceal, and nought gloss 
over. 

‘ I must tell how in the plains of Tigris I upraised the 
sacred standard of our chosen race, and called them from 
their bondage ; how, despairing of his recreant fathers, 
and inspired by human power alone, I vainly claimed the 
mighty office for his sacred blood alone reserved. God of 
my fathers, grant that future service, the humble service of 
a contrite soul, may in the coming glory that awaits us, 
atone for past presumption ! 

‘ But for him great trials are impending. Not lightly 
must that votary be proved, who fain would free a people. 
The Lord is faithful to his promise, but the Lord will 
choose his season and his minister. Courage, and faith, 
and deej) humility, and strong endurance, and the watch¬ 
ful soul temptation cannot sully, these are the fruits we 
lay upon his altar, and meekly watch if some descending 
flame will vouchsafe to accept and brightly bless them. 

^ It is written in the dread volume of our mystic lore, 
that not alone the Saviour shall spring from out our house 
of princes, but that none shall rise to free us, until, alone 
and unassisted, he have gained the sceptre which Solomon 
of old wielded within his cedar ^^alaces. 

‘ That scejotre must he gain. This fragile youth, untried 
and delicate, unknowing in the ways of this strange world, 
Avhere every step is danger, how much hardship, how 
much peril, what withering disappointment, what dull 
care, what long despondency, what never-ending lures, 
now lie in ambush for this gentle boy ! 0 my countrymen, 

i) 


34 


ALROY. 


is tills jour Lope ? And I, -vvitli all mj lore, and all my 
courage, and all raj deep intelligence of man; unhappy 
Israel, whj am I not th j Prince ? 

‘ I check the blasphemous thought. Did not his great 
ancestor, as joung and as untried, a beardless stripling, 
Avith but a pebble, a small smoothed stone, level a mailed 
giant with the ground, and save his people ? 

‘ He is clearlj summoned. The Lord is Avith him. Be he 
with the Lord, and we shall prosper.’ 


CHAPTER'lY. 

It was at sunset, on the third day after the arrival of 
Alroj at the cave of the Cabalist, that the Prince of the 
Captivity commenced his pilgrimiage in quest of the sceptre 
of Solomon. 

Silently the pilgrim and his master took their way to 
the brink of the ravine, and there they stopped to part, 
perhaps for e^mr. 

‘ It is a bitter moment, Alroy. Human feelings are not 
for beings like us, yet they will have their way. Remember 
all. Cherish the talisman as thy life : nay ! welcome death 
with it pressing against thy heart, rather than breathe 
Avithout it. Be firm, be pious. Think of thy ancestors 
think of thy God.’ 

‘ Doubt me not, dear master; if I seem not full of that 
proud spirit, which was perhaps too much my wont, ascribe 
it not to fear, Jabaster, nor even to the pain of leaving thee, 
dear friend. But ever since that sweet and solemn voice 
summoned me so thrillingl^q I knoAV not how it is, but a 
change has come over my temper ; yet I am firm, oh ! firmer 
far than when I struck down the Ishmaelite. Indeed, indeed, 
fear not for me. The Lord, that knoweth all things, knows 
fall well I am prepared even to the death. Thy prayers, 
Jabaster, and-’ 

‘ Stop, stop. I do remember me. See tliis ring: ’tis a 
choice emerald. Thou majjst have wondered I should wear 




ALEOY. 


35 


n, loauble. Alroy, I liad a brother once : still he may live. 
When we parted, this was the signal of his love : a love, my 
child, strong, though we greatly differed. Take it. The 
hour may come that thou mayst need his aid. It will com¬ 
mand it. If he live, he prospers. I know his temper well, 
lie was made for what the worldly deem prosperity. God be 
with thee, sacred boy: the God of onr great fathers, the 
God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob ! ’ 

They embraced. 

‘We linger,’ exclaimed the Cabalist, ‘we linger. Oh! 
in vain we quell the feelings of our kind. God, God bless 
and be with thee I Art sure thou hast all ? thy dagger and 
thy wallet ? That staff has seen some service. I cut it on 
the Jordan. AIi I that I could be thy mate 1 ’Twould be 
nothing then. At the worst to die together. Such a fate 
seems sweeter now than parting. I’ll watch thy star, my 
child. Thou weepest! And I too. Why 1 what is this ? 

Am I indeed Jabaster ? One more embrace, and so- 

we’ll not say farewell, but only think it.’ 




AT.EOY. 


SG 


PAET IV. 


CHAPTER I. 

Tradition taught that the sceptre of Solomon could be found 
only in the unknown sepulchres of the ancient Hebrew 
monarchs, and that none might dare to touch it but one of 
their descendants. Armed with the cabalistic talisman, 
which was to guide him in his awful and difficult researches, 
Alroy commenced his pilgrimage to the Holy City. At this 
time, the love of these sacred wanderino*s was a reiirnino* 
passion among the Jews as well as the Christians. 

The Prince of the Captivity was to direct his course into 
the heart of those great deserts which, in his flight from 
Hamadan, he had only skirted. Following the track of the 
caravan, he was to make his way to Babylon, or Bagdad. 
From the capital of the caliphs, his journey to Jerusalem 
was one comparatively easy; but to reach Bagdad he must 
encounter hardship and danger, the prospect of which 
would have divested any one of hope, who did not conceive 
himself the object of an omnipotent and particular Pro¬ 
vidence. 

Clothed only in a coarse black frock, common among the 
Kourds, girded round his waist by a cord which held his 
dagger, his head shaven, and covered with a large white 
turban, which screened him from the heat, his feet protected 
only by slippers, supported by his staff, and bearing on his 
shoulders a bag of dried meat and parched corn, and a 
leathern skin of water, behold, toiling over the glowing 
sands of Persia, a youth whose life had hitherto been a lono* 
unbroken dream of domestic luxury and innocent indulgence. 

He travelled during the warm night or the early starlit 



ALllOY. 


37 


morn. Diiiino' tlie day lie rested : liappy if he could recline 
by the side of some charitable well, shaded by a palm-tree, 
or frighten a gazelle from its resting-place among the rough 
bushes of some wild rocks. Were these resources wantino-, 
he threw himself upon the sand, and made an awning with 
his staff and turban. 

Three weeks had elapsed since he quitted the cavern of 
the Cabalist. Hitherto he had met with no human beino\ 

O 

The desert became less arid. A scanty vegetation sprang 
up from a more genial soil; the ground broke into gentle 
undulations; his senses were invigorated with the odour of 
wild plants, and his sight refreshed by the glancing form 
of some wandering bird, a pilgrim like himself, but more 
at ease. 

Soon sprang up a grove of graceful palm-trees, with their 
tall thin stems, and bending feathery crowns, languid and 
beautiful. Around, the verdant sod gleamed like an eme¬ 
rald : silver streams, flowing from a bubbling parent spring, 
wound their white forms within the bright green turf. 
From the grove arose the softening song of doves, and 
showers of gay and sparkling butterflies, borne on their 
tinted wings of shifting light, danced without danger in 
the liquid air. A fair and fresh Oasis ! 


CHAPTER II. 

Alroy reposed in this delicious retreat for two days, feeding 
on the living dates, and drinking of the fresh water. Fain 
would he have lingered, nor indeed, until he rested, had he 
been sufficiently conscious of his previous exertion. But the 
.remembrance of his great mission made him restless, and 
steeled him to the sufferings Avhich j^et aAvaited him. 

At the daAvn of the second day of his journey from the 
Oasis he beheld, to his astonishment, faintly but distinctly 
traced on the far horizon, the Avails and turrets of an ex¬ 
tensive city.'^ Animated by this unexpected prospect, he 
continued his progress for several hours after sunrise. At 



38 


ALKOY. 


length, utterly exhausted, he sought refuge from the over¬ 
powering heat beneath the cupola of the ruined tomb of 
some Moslem saint. At sunset he continued his journey, 
and in the morning found himself -within a few miles of the 
city. He halted, and watched with anxiety for some e-vi- 
dence of its inhabitants. Hone was visible. Ho crowds or 
cavalcades issued from the gates. Hot a single human being, 
not a solitary camel, moved in the vicinity. 

The day was too advanced for the pilgrim to proceed, 
but so great was his anxiety to reach this unknown settle¬ 
ment, and penetrate the mystery of its silence, that ere 
sunset Alroy entered the gates. 

A magnificent city, of an architecture with which he was 
unacquainted, offered to his entranced vision its gorgeous 
ruins and deserted splendour; long streets of palaces, with 
their rich line of lessening pillars, here and there broken by 
some fallen shaft, vast courts surrounded by ornate and 
solemn temples, and luxurious baths adorned v>dth rai-e 
mosaics, and yet bright with antique gilding; now an arch 
of triumph, still haughty with its broken friezes; now a 
granite obelisk covered with strange characters, and proudly 
towering over a prostrate companion; sometimes a void and 
crumbling theatre, sometimes a long and elegant aqueduct, 
sometimes a porphyry column, once breathing with the 
heroic statue that now lies shivered at its base, all suffused 
with the warm twihght of an eastern eve. 

He gazed with wonder and admiration upon the strange 
and fascinating scene. The more he beheld, the more his 
curiosity was excited. He breathed with difficulty; he 
advanced with a blended feeling of eagerness and hesitation. 
Fresh wonders successively unfolded themselves. Each 
turn developed a new scene of still and solemn splendour. 
The echo of his step filled him with awe. He looked around 
him with an amazed air, a fluttering heart, and a changing 
countenance. All was silent: alone the Hebrew Prince 
stood amid the regal creation of the Macedonian captains. 
Empires and dynasties flourish and pass away; the proud 
metropolis becomes a solitude, the conquering kingdom even 


ALKOY. 


39 


a desert; but Israel still remains, still a descendant of tlio 
most ancient kings breathed amid these royal ruins, and 
still the eternal sun could never rise without gilding the 
towers of living Jerusalem. A wnrd, a deed, a single day, 
a single man, and we might be a nation. 

A shout! he turns, he is seized; four ferocious Kourdish 
bandits grapple and bind him. 


CHAPTER III. 

The bandits hurried their captive through a street which 
appeared to have been the principal way of the city. 
Nearly at its termination, they turned by a small Ionian 
temple, and, clambering over some fallen pillars, entered a 
quarter of the city of a more ruinous aspect than that which 
Alroy had hitherto visited. The path was narrow, often 
obstructed, and around were signs of devastation for which 
the exterior of the city had not prepared him. 

The brilliant but brief twilight of the Orient was fast 
fading away; a sombre purple tint succeeded to the rosy 
flush; the distant towers rose black, although defined, in 
the clear and shadowy air; and the moon, wMch, when ho 
first entered, had studded the heavens like a small white 
cloud, now glittered with deceptive light. 

Suddenly, before them rose a huge pile. Oval in shape, 
and formed by tiers of arches, it was evidently much 
dilapidated, and one enormous, irregular, and undulating 
rent, extending from the top nearly to the foundation, 
almost separated the side to -which Alroy and his companions 
advanced. 

Clambering up the remainder of this massive wall, the 
robbers and their prisoner descended into an immense am¬ 
phitheatre, which seemed vaster in the shadowy and stream¬ 
ing moonlight. In it were groups of men, horses, and 
camels. In the extreme distance, reclining or squatting on 
mats and carpets, was a large assembly, engaged in a rough 
but merry banquet. A fire blazed at their side, its red and 



40 


ALrxOY. 


uncei’tain flame mingling with the white and steady moon¬ 
beam, and throwing a flickering light over their ferocious 
countenances, their glistening armour, ample drapery, and 
shawled heads. 

‘A spy,’ exclaimed the captors, as they dragged Alroy 
before the leader of the band. 

‘Hang him, then,’ said the chieftain, without even look¬ 
ing up. 

‘ This wine, great Scherirah, is excellent, or I am no true 
Afoslem,’ said a princi23al robber; ‘ bu| yon are too cruel ; 
I hate this summary punishment. Let ns torture him a 
little, and extract some useful information.’ 

‘ As you like, Kisloch,’ said Scherirah; ‘ it may amuse us. 
I’ellow, where do you come from ? He cannot answer. 
Decidedly a sjiy. Hang him np.’ 

The captors half untied the rope that bound Alroy, that 
it might serve him for a further purpose, when another of 
the gentle companions of Scherirah interfered. 

‘ Spies always answer, captain. He is more probably a 
merchant in disguise.’ 

‘ And carries hidden treasure,’ added Kisloch; ‘ these 
rough coats often cover jewels. We had better search him.’ 

‘ Ah ! search him,’ said Scherirah, with his rough brutal 
voice; ‘ do what j^ou like, only give me the bottle. This 
Greek Avine is choice booty. Feed the fire, men. Are you 
asleep ? And then Kisloch, Avho hates cruelty, can roast 
him if he likes.’ 

The robbers prepared to strip their captive. ‘ Friends, 
friends !’ exclaimed Alroy, ‘for there is no reason why you 
should not be friends, spare me, spare me. I am poor, I 
am young, I am innocent. I am neither a spy nor a mer¬ 
chant. I haA^e no plots, no Avealth. I am a pilgrim.’ 

‘ A decided spy,’ exclaimed Scherirah; ‘ they are ever 
pilgrims.’ 

‘ He speaks too Avell to speak truth,’ exclaimed Kisloch. 

‘All talkers are liars,’ exclaimed Scherirah. 

‘ That is Avhy Kisloch is the most eloquent of the band.’ 

‘ A jest at the banquet may prove a curse in the field,’ 
replied Kisloch. 


ALROY. 


41 


‘Pooa!’ exclaimed Sclierirali. ‘Fellows, wliy do you 
hesitate ? Search the prisoner, I say !’ 

They advanced, they seized him. In vain he struggled. 

‘ Captain,’ exclaimed one of the band, ‘ he wears upon 
his breast a jewel!’ 

‘ I told you so,’ said the third robber. 

‘ Give it me,’ said Scheiirah. 

But Alroy, in despair at the thought of losing the talis¬ 
man, remembering the injunctions of Jabaster, and ani¬ 
mated by supernatural courage, burst from his searchers, 
and, seizing a brand from the fire, held them at bay. 

‘ The fellow has spirit,’ said Schcrirah, calmly. ‘ ’Tis 
pity it will cost him his life.’. 

‘ Bold man,’ exclaimed Alroy, ‘ for a moment hear me ! 
I am a pilgidm, poorer than a beggar. The jewel they talk 
of is a holy emblem, worthless to you, to me invaluable, and 
to be forfeited only with my life. You may be careless of 
that. Beware of your own. The first man who advances 
dies. I pray you humbly, chieftain, let me go.’ 

‘ Kill him,’ said Schcrirah. 

‘ Stab him !’ exclaimed Kisloch. 

‘ Give me the jewel,’ said the third robber. 

‘ The God of David be my refuge, then !’ exclaimed Alroy. 

‘ He is a Hebrew, he is a Hebrew,’ exclaimed Scherirah, 
jumping up. ‘ Spare him, my mother was a Jewess.’ 

The assailants lowered their arms, and withdrew a fc^v 
paces. Alroy still remained upon his guard. 

‘Valiant pilgrim,’ said Scherirah, advancing, with a 
softened voice, ‘ are you for the holy city ?’ 

‘ The city of my fathers.’ 

‘ A perilous journey. And whence from ?’ 

‘ Hamadan.’ 

‘ A dreary way. You need repose. Your name ?’ 

‘ Dayid.’ 

‘ Dayid, you are among friends. Rest, and repose in 
safety. You hesitate. Fear not! The memory of my 
mother is a charm that always changes me !’ Scherirah 
unsheathed his dagger, punctured his arm,’'* and, throwing 


42 


ALilOY. 


fiway tlic weapon, offered the bleeding member to Alroy. 
The Prince of the Captivity touched the open vein with 
his lips. 

‘My troth is pledged,’ said the bandit; ‘I can never be¬ 
tray him in whose veins my ovm blood is flowing.’ So say¬ 
ing, he led Alroy to his carpet. 


CHAPTER ly. 

‘ Eat, David,’ said Scherirah. 

‘ I will eat bread,’ answered Alroy. 

‘What! have you liad so much meat lately that you will 
refuse this delicate gazelle that I brought down this morn¬ 
ing Avith my own lance ? ’Tis food for a caliph.’ 

‘ I pray you give me bread.’ 

‘ Oh! bread if you like. But that a man should prefer 
bread to meat, and such meat as this, ’tis miraculous.’ 

‘ A thousand thanks, good Schermah; but with our 
people the flesh of the gazelle is forbidden. It is unclean. 
Its foot is cloven.^ 

‘ I have heard of these things,’ rej^lied Scherirah, Avith a 
thoughtful air. My mother Avas a JeAvess, and my father 
Avas a Kourd. Whichever be right, I hope to be saved.’ 

‘ There is but one Grod, and Mahomed is his prophet 1’ 
exclaimed Kisloch ; ‘ though I drink wine. Your health, 
llebrcAv.’ 

‘ I will join you,’ said the third robber. ‘ My father 
Avas a Guebre, and sacrificed his property to his faith ; and 
the consequence is, his son has got neither.’ 

‘ As for me,’ said a fouidh robber, of very dark com¬ 
plexion and singularly small bright eyes, ‘ I am an Indian, 
and I believe in the great golden figure with carbuncle eyes, 
in the temple of Delhi.’ 

‘ I haAn no religion,’ said a tall negro in a red turban, 
grinning with his Avhite teeth ; ‘ they have none in my 
country ; but if I had heard of your God before, Calidas, I 
AAnuld have believed in him.’ 



ALEOY. 


43 


‘ ] almost wisli I had been a Jew,’ exclaimed Sclierii’ah, 
musing. ‘ Mj mother was a good woman.’ 

‘ The Jews are very rich,’ said the third robber. 

‘AYhen ^^on. get to Jerusalem, David, yon will seo the 
Christians,’ continned Scherirah. 

‘ The accursed Giaours,’ exclaimed Kisloch, ‘ w'e arc all 
against them.’ 

‘ With their white faces,’ exclaimed the negro. 

‘ And their blue eyes,’ said the Indian. 

‘ What can you expect of men who live in a country 
without a sun ?’ observed The Guebre. 


CHAPTER V. 

Alroy awoke about two hours after midnight. His com¬ 
panions were in deep slumber. The moon had set, the fire 
had died away, a few red embers alone remaining ; dark 
masses of shadow hung about the amphitheatre. He arose 
and cautiously stepped over the sleeping bandits. He was 
not in strictness a prisoner ; but who could trust to the 
caprice of these lawless men ? To-morrow might find him 
their slave, or their companion in some marauding expe¬ 
dition, which might make him almost retrace his steps to 
the Caucasus, or to Hamadan. The temptation to ensure 
his freedom was irresistible. He clambered up the ruined 
wall, descended into the intricate windings that led to the 
Ionic fane, that served him as a beacon, hurried through 
the silent and starry streets, gained the great portal, and 
rushed once more into the desert. 

A vague fear of pursuit made him continue his course 
many hours without resting. The desert again became 
sandy, the heat increased. The breeze that plays about 
the wilderness, and in early spring is often scented witli 
the wild fragrance of aromatic plants, sank away. A lurid 
brightness suffused the heavens. An appalling stillness 
pervaded nature; even the insects were silent. For the 



44 


ALEOY. 


first time in his pilgrimage, a feeling of deep despondency 
fell over the soul of Alroy. His energy appeared sud¬ 
denly to have deserted him. A low hot wind began to 
rise, and fan his cheek with pestiferous kisses, and ener¬ 
vate his frame with its poisonous embrace. His head 
and limbs ached with a dull sensation, more terrible than 
pain; his sight was dizzy, his tongue swollen. Vainly 
he looked around for aid; vainly he extended his forlorn 
arms, and wrung them to the remorseless heaven. Al¬ 
most frantic with thirst, the boundless horizon of the 
desert disappeared, and the unhappy victim, in the midst 
of his torture, found himself apparently surrounded by 
bright and running streams, the fleeting waters of the 
false mirage ! • 

The sun became blood-red, the sky darker, the sand rose 
in fierce eddies, the moaning wind burst into shrieks and 
exhaled more ardent and still more malignant breath. The 
pilgrim could no longer sustain himself.*^ Faith, courage, 
devotion deserted him with his failing energies. He 
strove no longer with his destiny, he delivered himself up 
to despair and death. He fell upon one knee with drooping 
head, supporting himself by one quivering hand, and then, 
full of the anguish of baffled purposes and lost affections, 
raising his face and arm to heaven, thus to the elements ho 
poured his passionate farewell. 

‘ O life ! once vainly deemed a gloomy toil, I feel thy 
sweetness now ! Farewell, 0 life, farewell my high re¬ 
solves and proud conviction of almighty fame. My days, 
my short unprofitable days, melt into the past ; and death, 
with which I struggle, horrible death, arrests me in this 
wilderness. 0 my sister, could thy voice but murmur in 
my ear one single sigh of love; could thine eye with its 
soft radiance but an instant blend with my dim fading 
vision, the pang were nothing. Farewell, Miriam ! my 
heart is with thee by thy fountain’s side. Fatal blast, 
bear her my dying words, my blessing. And ye too, 
friends, whose too neglected love I think of now, farewell! 
Farewell, my uncle; farewell, pleasant home, and Hama- 


ALROY. 


45 


clan’s serene and sliadowy bowers ! Farewell, Jabaster, and 
the mighty lore of which thou wert the priest and I the 
pupil! Thy talisman throbs on my faithful heart. Green 
earth and golden sun, and all the beautiful and glorious 
sights ye fondly lavish on unthinking man, farewell, fare¬ 
well ! I die in the .desert: ’tis bitter. No more, oh! 
never more for me the hopeful day shall break, and the 
fresh breeze rise on its cheering wings of health and joy. 
Heaven and earth, water and air, my chosen country and 
my antique creed, farewell, farewell ! And thon, too, city 

of my soul, I cannot name thee, unseen Jerusalem-’ 

Amid the roar of the wind, the bosom of the earlh 
heaved and opened, swift columns of sand sprang up to the 
lurid sky, and hurried towards their victim. With the 
clang of universal chaos, imnenetrable darkness doBcended 
on the desert. 




46 


ALKOy. 


PAET V. 


CHAPTER I. 

‘ How OTir dreary way is over, now the desert's toil is 
past. Soon the river broadly flowing, through its green 
and palmy banks, to our wearied limbs shall oCPer baths 
which caliphs cannot buy. Allah-illah, Allah-hu. Allah- 
illah, Allah-hu.’ 

‘ Blessed the man who now may bear a relic from our 
Prophet’s tomb; blessed the m.an who now unfolds the 
treasures of a distant mart, jewels of the dusky East, and 
silks of farthest Samarcand. Allah-illah, Allah-hu. Allah- 
illah, Allah-hu.’ 

‘ Him the sacred mosque shall greet with a reverence 
grave and low ; him the busy Bezestein shall welcome with 
confiding smile. Holy merchant, now receive the double 
triumph of thy toil. Allah-illah, Allah-hu. Allah-illah, 
Allah-hu.’ 

‘ The camel jibs, Abdallah ! See, there is something in 
the track.’ 

‘ By the holy stone,*® a dead man. Poor devil! One 
should never make a pilgrimage on foot. I hate your 
humble piety. Prick the beast and he will pass the corpse.’ 

‘ The Prophet preaches charity, Abdallah. He has fa- 
vou.red my enterprise, and I will practise his precept. See 
if he be utterly dead.’ 

It was the Mecca caravan returning to Bagdad. The 
pilgrims v/ere within a day’s journey of the Euphrates, 
and welcomed their approach to fertile earth with a trium¬ 
phant chorus. Ear as the eye could reach, the long line of 
their straggling procession stretched across the wilderness, 


.ALROY. 


47 


tTiousaiids of camels in strings, laden witli bales of mer- 
cliandise, and each company headed by an animal of supe¬ 
rior size, leading with tinkling bells; groups of horsemen, 
clusters of litters; all the pilgrims armed to their teeth, 
the van formed by a strong division of Seljuldan cavalry, 
and the rear protected by a Kourdish clan, who guaranteed 
tlie security of the pious travellers through their country. 

Abdallah was the favourite slave of the charitable mer- 
Ciiant Ali. In obedience to his master’s orders, he un¬ 
willingly descended from his camel, and examined the body 
of the apparently lifeless Alroy. 

‘ A Kourd by his dress,’ exclaimed Abdallah, with a 
sneer ; ‘ what does he here ? ’ 

‘ It is not the face of a Kourd,’ replied Ali; ‘perchance 
a pilgrim from the mountains.’ 

‘ Y/hatever he be, he is dead,’ answered the slave: ‘I 
doubt not an accursed Giaour.’ 

‘ God is great,’ exclaimed Ali; ‘ he breathes; the breast 
of his caftan heaved.’ 

‘ ’Twas the wind,’ said Abdallah. " 

‘ ’Twas the sigh of a human heart,’ answered Ali. 

Several pilgrims who were on foot now gathered around 
the group. 

‘ I am a Hakim,’observed a dignified Armenian. ‘ I 
will feel his pulse; ’tis dull, but it beats.’ 

‘ There is but one God,’ exclaimed Ali. 

‘ And Mahomed is his Prophet,’ responded Abdallah. 
‘ You do not believe in him, you Armenian infidel.’ 

‘ I am a Hakim,’ replied the dignified Armenian. ‘ Al¬ 
though an infidel, God has granted me skill to cure true 
believers. Worthy Ali, believe me, the boy may yet live.’ 

‘ Hakim, you shall count your own dirhems if he breathe 
in my divan in Bagdad,’ answered Ali; ‘ I have taken a 
fancy to the boy. God has sent him to me. He shall 
carry my slippers.’ 

‘ Give me a camel, and I will save his life.' 

‘ We have none,’ said the servant. 

‘ Walk, Abdallah,’ said the master. 


48 


ALROY. 


‘ Is a true bollever to walk to save the life of a Kourd ? 
Master slipper-bearer shall answer for this, if there be any 
sweetness in the bastinado,’ mnrmnred Abdallah. 

The Armenian bled Alroy; the blood flowed slowly but 
surely. The Prince of the Captivity opened his e 3 "es. 

‘ There is but one God,’ exclaimed Ali. 

‘ The evil eye fall on him !’ muttered Abdallah. 

The Armenian took a cordial from his vest, and poured 
it dov/n his patient’s throat. The blood flowed more freely. 

‘ He will live, worthy merchant,’ said the physician. 

‘ And Mahomed is his Prophet,’ continued Ali. 

‘ By the stone of Mecca, I believe it is a Jew,’ shouted 
Abdallah. 

‘ The dog!’ exclaimed Ali. 

‘ Pah 1’ said a negro-slave, drawing back with disgust. 

‘ He will die,’ said the Christian physician, not even 
binding up the vein. 

‘ And be damned,’ said Abdallah, again jumping on his 
camel. 

The party rode on, the caravan proceeded. A Kourdish 
horseman galloped forward. He curbed his steed as he 
passed Alroy bleeding to death. 

‘ What accursed slave has wounded one of my clan ?’ 

The Kourd leaped off his horse, stripped off* a slip of his 
blue shirt, stanched the wound, and carried the unhap])y 
Alroy to the rear. 

The desert ceased, the caravan entered upon a vast but 
fruitful plain. In the extreme distance might be descried 
a long undulating line of palm-trees. The vanguard gave 
a shout, shook their tall lances in the air, and rattled their 
scimetars in rude chorus against their small round iron 
shields. All eyes sparkled, all hands were raised, all voices 
sounded, save those that were breathless from overpower- 
ing joy. After months wandering in the sultry wilderness, 
they beheld the great Euphrates. 

Broad and fresh, magnificent and serene, the mighty 
waters rolled through the beautiful and fertile earth. A 
vital breeze rose from their bosom. Every being responded 


ALROY. 


49 


to their genial influence. The sick were cured, the de¬ 
sponding became sanguine, the healthy and light-hearted 
broke into shouts of laughter, jumped from their camels, 
and embraced the fragrant earth, or, wild in their renovated 
strength, galloped over the plain, and threw their wanton 
jerreeds in the air,^® as if to show that suffering and labour 
had not deprived them of that skill and strength, without 
which it were vain again to enter the haunts of their less 
adventurous brethren. ‘ 

The caravan halted on the banks of the broad river, 
glowing in the cool sunset. The camp was pitched, the 
plain glittered with tents. The camels, falling on their 
knees, crouched in groups, the merchandise jailed up in 
masses by their sides. The unharnessed horses rushed 
neighing about the plain, tossing their glad heads, and 
rolling in the unaccustomed pasture. Spreading their mats, 
and kneeling towards Mecca, the pilgrims performed their 
evening orisons. Never was thanksgiving more sincere. 
They arose : some rushed into the river, some lighted lamps, 
some pounded coffee.^'’ Troops of smiling villagers arrived 
with fresh provisions, eager to prey upon such light hearts 
and heavy purses. It was one of those occasions when 
the accustomed gravity of the Orient disappears. Long 
through the night the sounds of music and the shouts of 
laughter were heard on the banks of that starry river; long 
through the night you might have listened with enchant¬ 
ment to the wild tales of the storier, or gazed with fasci¬ 
nation on the wilder gestures of the dancing girls.^® 


.CHAPTER 11. 

The great bazaar of Bagdad afforded an animated and 
sumptuous spectacle on the day after the arrival of the 
c.aravan. All the rare and costly products of the wmrld 
were collected in that celebrated mart: the shawls of 
Cashmere and the silks of Syria, the ivory, and plumes, and 



50 


ALEOY. 


gold of Afric, tlie jewels of Ind, the talismans of Egypt, 
tho perfames and manuscripts of Persia, the spices and 
gums of Ai*aby, beautiful horses, more beautiful slaves, 
cloaks of sable, pelisses of ermine, armour alike magnificent 
in ornament and temper, rare animals, still rarer birds, 
blue apes in silver collars, white gazelles bound by a golden 
chain, greyhounds, peacocks, paroquets. And everywhere 
strange, and busy, and excited groups; men of all nations, 
creeds, and climes: the sumptuous and haughty Turk, the 
graceful' and subtle Arab, the Hebrew with his ’ black cap 
and anxious countenance ; the Armenian Christian, with 
his dark flowing robes, and mild demeanour, and serene 
\dsage. Here strutted the lively, afiected, and superfine 
Persian ; and there the Circassian stalked with his long hair 
and chain cuirass. The fair Georgian jostled the ebony 
form of the merchant of Dongola or Sennaar. 

Through the long, narrow, arched, and winding streets 
of the bazaar, lined on each side with loaded stalls, all was 
bustle, bargaining, and barter. A passenger approached, 
apparently of no common rank. Tavo pages preceded him, 
beautiful Georgian boys, clothed in crimson cloth, and caps 
of the same material, sitting tight to their heads, vdth long 
golden tassels. One bore a blue velvet bag, and the other 
a clasped and richly bound volume. Four footmen, armed, 
followed their master, Avho rode behind the pages on a 
milk-white mule. He Avas a man of middle age, eminently 
handsome. His ample robes concealed the only fault in his 
appearance, a figure which indulgence had rendered some¬ 
what too exuberant. His eyes Avere large, and soft, and 
dark; his nose aquiline, but delicately moulded ; his mouth 
small, and beautifully proportioned ; his lip full and red; 
his teeth regular and dazzling Avhite. His ebony beard 
flowed, but not at too great a length, in graceful and natural 
curls, and was richly perfumed ; a delicate mustachio shaded 
his upper lip, but no Avhisker was permitted to screen the 
form and shroud the lustre of his oval countenance and 
brilliant complexion. Altogether, the animal perhaps pro- 
dominated too much in the expression of the stranger’s 


ALEOY. 


51 


countenance; but genius beamed from his passionate eye, 
and craft lay concealed in that subtle lip. The dress of the 
rider was sumptuous. His turban, formed by a scarlet 
Cashmere shawl, was of great breadth, and, conceahng half 
of his white forehead, increased by the contrast the radiant 
height of the other. His under-vest was of white Damascus 
silk, stiff with silver embroidery, and confined by a girdle 
formed by a Brusa scarf of gold stuff, and holding a dagger, 
whose hilt appeared blazing with brilliants and rubies. His 
loose and exterior robe was of crimson cloth. His white 
hands sparkled with rings, and his ears glittered with pen¬ 
dulous gems. 

‘ Who is this ? ’ asked an Egyptian merchant, in a low 
whisper, of the dealer whose stuffs he was examining. 

‘ ’Tis the Lord Honain,’ replied the dealer. 

‘ And who may he be ? ’ continued the Egyptian,* ‘ Is 
he the Caliph’s son ? ’ 

‘ A much greater man; his physician.’ 

The white mule stopped at the very stall where this con- 
■versation was taking place. The pages halted, and stood on 
each side of their master, the footmen kept off the crowd. 

‘ Merchant,’ said Honain, -with a gracious smile of con¬ 
descension, and with a voice musical as a flute, ‘ Merchant, 
did you obtain me my wish ? ’ 

‘ There is but one God,’ replied the dealer, who was the 
charitable Ali, ‘ and Mahomed is his Prophet. I succeeded, 
please your highness, in seeing at Aleppo the accursed 
Giaour, of whom I spoke, and behold, that whieh you 
desired is here.’ So saying, Ali produced several Greek 
manuscripts, and offered them to his visitor. 

‘ Hah ! ’ said Honain, with a sparkling eye, ‘ ’tis well; 
their cost ? ’ 

‘ The infidel would not part with them under five hundred 
dirhems,’ replied Ali. 

‘Ibrahim, see that this worthy merchant receive a 
thousand.’ 

‘ As many thanks, my Lord Honain.’ 

The Caliph’s physician bowed gracefully. 


52 


ALROY. 


‘ Advance, pages,’ coiitiimed Houain ; ‘ wliy iliis stop^ 
page ? Ibraliiui, see that onr way bo cleared. What is all 
this ? ’ 

A crowd of men advanced, pulling along a youth, who, 
almost exhausted, still singly struggled with his ungene¬ 
rous adversaries. 

‘ The Cadi, the Cadi,’ cried the foremost of them, who 
was Abdallah, ‘ drag him to the Cadi.’ 

‘ Noble lord,’ cried the youth, extricating himself by a 
sudden struggle from the grasp of his captors, and seizing 
the robe of Honain, ‘ I am innocent and injured. I pray 
thy help.’ 

‘ The Cadi, the Cadi,’ exclaimed Abdallah ; the knave has 
stolen my ring, the ring given me by my laithful Fatima 
on our marriage-day, and which I would not part with for 
my master’s stores.’ 

The youth still clung to the robe of Honain, and, muto 
from exhaustion, fixed upon him his beautiful and im¬ 
ploring eye. 

‘ Silence,’ proclaimed Honain, ‘ I will judge this cause.’ 

‘ The Lord Honain, the Lord Honain, listen to the Lord 
Honain! ’ 

‘ Speak, thou brawler ; of what hast thou to complain ? ’ 
said Honain to Abdallah. 

‘ May it please your highness,’ said Abdallah, in a whining 
voice, ‘ I am the slave of your faithful servant, Ali: often 
have I had the honour of waiting on your highness. This 
young knave here, a beggar, has robbed me, while slum¬ 
bering in a coffee-house, of a ring ; I have my witnesses to 
prove my slumbering. ’Tis a fine emerald, may it please 
your highness, and doubly valuable to me as a love-token 
from my Fatima. No consideration in the world could induce 
me to part with it; and so, being asleep, here are three 
honest men who will prove the sleep, comes this little vaga¬ 
bond, may it please your highness, who while he pretends 
to ofier me my cofl’ce, takes him my finger, and slips off this 
precious ring, which he now wears upon his beggarlv 
paw, and will not restore to me without the bastinado.’ 


ALEOY. 


53 


‘ Abdallali is a faitliful slave, may it please your highness, 
and a Hadgee,’ said Ali, his master. 

‘ And what sayest thou, hoy ? ’ inquired Honain. 

‘ That this is a false knave, who lies as slaves ever will.’ 

‘ Pithy, and perhaps true,’ said Honain. 

‘ You call me a slave, you young scoundrel ? ’ exclaimed 
Abdallah; ‘ shall I tell you what you are ? Why, your 
highness, do not listen to him a moment. It is a shame to 
bring such a creature into your presence ; for, by the holy 
stone, and I am a Hadgee, I doubt little he is a Jew.’ 

Honain grew somewhat pale, and bit his lip. He was 
23erhaps annoyed that he had interfered so publicly in behalf 
of so unpopular a character as a Hebrew, but he was 
unwilling to desert one whom a moment before he had 
resolved to befriend, and he inquired of the youth where 
he had obtained the ring. 

‘ The ring was given to me by my dearest friend Avhen I 
first set out upon an arduous pilgrimage not yet completed. 
There is but one jDerson in the world, except the donor, to 
whom I would part with it, and with that person I am 
unacquainted. All this may seem improbable, but all this 
is true. I have truth alone to support me. I am destitute 
and friendless; but I am not a beggar, nor will any suffer¬ 
ing induce me to become one. Feeling, from various 
circumstances, utterly exhausted, I entered a coffee-house 
and lay down, it may have been to die. I could not sleei^, 
although my eyes were shut, and nothing would have 
roused me from a tremulous trance, which I thought was 
dying, but this plunderer here, who would not wait until 
death had permitted him quietly to jdosscss himself of a 
jewel I value more than life.’ 

‘ Show me the jewel.’ 

The youth held up his hand to Honain, who felt his 
pulse, and then took off the ring. 

‘ 0, my Fatima ! ’ exclaimed Abdallah. 

‘ Silence, sir ! ’ said Honain. ‘ Page, call a jeweller.’ 

Honain examined the ring attentively. Whether he were 
near-sighted, or whether the deceptive light of the covered 


54 


ALKOY. 


bazaar prevented him from examining it witli ease, be 
certainiy raised his hand to his brow, and for some moments 
his countenance was invisible. 

The jeweller arrived, and, pressing his hand to his heart, 
bowed before Honain. 

‘ Yalue this ring,’ said Honain, in a low voice. 

The jeweller took the ring, viewed it in all directions 
with a scrutinising glance, held it to the light, pressed it 
to his tongue, turned it over and over, and finally declared 
that he could not sell such a ring under a thousand 
dirhems. 

‘ Whatever be the justice of the case,’ said Honain to 
Abdallah, ‘art thou ready to part with this ring for a 
thousand dirhems ? ’ 

‘ Most certainly,’ said Abdallah. 

‘ And thou, lad, if the decision be in thy favour, wilt thou 
take for the ring double the worth at which the jeweller 
prizes it ? ’ 

‘ My lord, I have spoken the truth. I cannot part with 
that ring for the palace of the Caliph.’ 

‘ The truth for once is triumphant,’ said Honain. ‘ Boy, 
the ring is thine; and for thee, thou knave,’ turning to 
Abdallah, ‘ liar, thief, and slanderer!—^for thee the bas- 
tinado,^' which thou destinedst for this innocent youth. 
Ibrahim, see that he receives five hundred. Young pilgrim, 
thou art no longer destitute or friendless. Follow me to 
my palace.’ 


CHAPTER III. 

The arched chamber was of great size and beautiful pro¬ 
portion. The ceiling, encrusted with green fretwork, and 
studded with silver stars, rested upon clustered columns of 
white and green marble. In the centre of a variegated 
pavement of the same material, a fountain rose and fell into 
. a gi’een porphyry basin, and by the side of the fountain, 
upon a couch of silver, reposed Honain. 



ALROY. 


55 


He raised tiis eyes from the illuminated volume on which 
he had been long intent; he clapped his hands, and a 
Nubian slave advanced, and, folding his arms upon his 
breast, bowed in silence before his lord. 

‘ How fares the Hebrew boy, Analschar ? ’ 

‘ Master, the fever has not returned. We gave him the 
potion; he slumbered for many hours, and has now 
awakened, weak but well.’ 

‘ Let him rise and attend me. 

The Nubian disappeared. 

‘ There is nothing stranger than sympathy,’ soliloquised 
the physician of the Caliph, with a meditative air; ‘ all 
resolves itself into this principle, and I confess this learned 
doctor treats it deeply and well. An erudite spirit truly, 
and an eloquent pen; yet he refines too much. ’Tis too 
scholastic. Observation will teach us more than dogma. 
Meditating upon my passionate youth, I gathered wisdom. 
I have seen so much that I have ceased to wonder. How¬ 
ever we doubt, there is a mystery beyond our penetration. 
And yet ’tis near our grasp. I sometimes deem a step, a 
single step, would launch us into light. Here comes my 
patient. The rose has left his cheek, and his deep brow is 
wan and melancholy. Yet ’tis a glorious visage. Medita¬ 
tion’s throne ; and Passion lingers in that languid eye. I 
know not why, a strong, attraction draws me to this lone 
cliild. 

‘ Gentle stranger, how fares it with thee ? ’ 

‘ Very well, my lord. I come to thank thee for all thy 
goodness. My only thanks are words, and those too weak ; 
and yet the orphan’s blessing is a treasure.’ 

‘ You are an orphan, then ? ’ 

‘ I Jiave no parent but my father’s God.’ 

‘ And that God is-’ 

‘ The God of Israel.’ 

‘ So I deemed. He is a Deity we all must honour; if 
he be the great Creator whom we all allow.’ 

‘ He is what he is, and we are what we are, a fallen 
people, but faithful still.’ 



56 


ALHOY. 


‘ Fidelity is strengtli.’ 

‘ Thy words are truth, and strength must triumph.’ 

‘ A prophecy! ’ 

‘ Many a prophet is little honoured, till the future proves 
his inspiration.’ 

‘ You are young and sanguine.’ 

‘ So was my ancestor within the vale of Elah. But I 
speak unto a Moslem, and this is foolishness.’ 

‘ I have read something, and can take your drift. As for 
my faith, I believe in truth, and wish all men to do the 
.same. By the bye, might I inquire the name of him who 
is the inmate of my house ? ’ 

‘ They call me David.’ 

‘ David, you have a ring, an emerald cut with curious 
characters, Hebrew, I beheve.’ 

‘ ’Tis here.’ 

‘ A fine stone, and this inscription means-’ 

‘ A simple legend, “Pur/cd, hut one',"’ the kind memorial 
of a brother’s love.’ 

‘ Your brother ? ’ 

‘ I never had a brother.’ 

‘ I have a silly fancy for this ring : you hesitate. Search 
my palace, and choose the treasure you deem its match.’ 

‘ Noble sir, tbte gem is little worth; but were it such 
might deck a Caliph’s brow, ’twere a poor recompense for 
all thy goodness. This ring is a trust rather than a pos¬ 
session, and strange to say, although I cannot offer it to 
thee who mayst command, as thou hast saved, the life of 
its unhappy wearer, some stranger may cross my path 
to-morrow, and almost claim it as his own.’ 

‘ And that stranger is-’ 

‘ The brother of the donor.’ 

‘ The brother of Jabaster ? ’ 

‘ Jabaster!’ 

‘ Even so. I am that parted brother.’ 

‘ Great is the God of Israel 1 Take the ring. But what 
is this ? the brother of Jabaster a turbaned chieftain ! a 
Moslem I Say, but say that thou has not assumed their 


ALKOY. 


57 


base belief; say, but say, that thou hast not become a 
traitor to our covenant, and I will bless the fortunes of this 
hour.’ 

‘ I am false to no God. Calm thyself, sweet youth. 
These are higher questions than thy faint strength can 
master now. Another time we’ll talk of this, my boy; 
at present of my brother and thyself. He lives and 
prospers ? ’ 

‘ He lives in faith ; the pious ever prosper.’ 

‘ A glorious dreamer! Though our moods are different, 
I ever loved him. And thyself ? Thou art not what thou 
seemest. Tell me all. Jabaster’s friend can be no common 
mind. Thy form has heralded thy fame. Trust me.’ 

‘ I am Alroy.’ 

‘ What! the Prince of our Captivity ? ’ 

‘ Even so.’ 

‘ The slayer of Alschiroch ? ’ 

‘Ay!’ 

My sympathy was prophetic. I loved thee from tho 
first. And what dost thou here ? A price is set upon thy 
head : thou knowest it ? ’ 

‘ For the first time; but I am neither astonished nor 
alarmed. I am upon the Lord’s business.’ 

‘ What wouldst thou ? ’ 

‘ Free his people.’ 

‘The pupil of Jabaster: I see it all. Another victim 
to his reveries. I’ll save this boy. David, for thy name 
must not be sounded within this city, the sun is dying. 
Let us to the terrace, and seek the solace of the twilight 
breeze.’ 


CHAPTER IV. 

‘ Wii.VT is the hour, David ? ’ 

‘ Hear to midnight. I marvel if thy brother may road 
in the stars our happy meeting.’ 



58 


ALEOY. 


‘ Men read that which they wish. He is a learned 
Cahalist.’ 

‘ But what we wish comes from above.’ 

‘ So they gay. We make our fortunes, and we call them 
Bate.’ 

‘ Yet the Voice sounded, the Daughter of the Voice that 
summoned Samuel.’ 

‘ You have told me strange things; I have heard stranger 
solved.’ 

* My faith is a rock.’ 

‘ On which you may split.’ 

* Art thou a Sadducee ? ’ 

‘ I am a man who knows men.’ 

‘ You are learned, but different from Jabaster.’ 

* We are the same, though different. Day and ISTight 
are both portions of Time.’ 

‘ And thy portion is-’ 

‘ Truth.’ 

‘ That is, light.’ 

‘ Yes; so dazzling that it sometimes seems dark.' 

‘ Like thy meaning.’ 

‘ You are young.’ 

‘ Is youth a defect ? ’ 

‘ ISTo, the reverse. But we cannot eat the fruit while the 
tree is in blossom.’ 

‘ What fruit ? ’ 

‘ Knowledge.’ 

‘ I have studied.’ 

‘ What ?’ 

‘ All sacred things.’ 

‘ How know you that they are sacred ? ’ 

‘ They come from God.’ 

‘ So does everything. Is everything sacred ? ’ 

‘ They are the deep expression of his will.’ 

‘ According to Jabaster. Ask the man who prays in 
yonder mosque, and he will tell you that Jabaster’s wrong.’ 
‘ After all, thou art a Moslem ? ’ 

‘Ho.’ 



ALROY. 


59 


‘ Wliat tlion ? ’ 

‘ I have told you, a man.’ 

‘ But Tvliat dost thou worship ? ’ 

‘ What is worship ? ’ 

‘ Adoration due from the creature to the Creator.’ 

‘ Which is he ? ’ 

‘ Oui’ God.’ 

‘ Tlio God of Israel ? ’ 

‘ Even so.’ 

‘ A frail minority, then, hum incense to him.’ 

‘ We are the chosen people.’ 

* Chosen for scoffs, and scorns, and contumelies. Com¬ 
mend me to such choice.’ 

‘ We forgot him, before he chastened us ’ 

* Why did we ? ’ 

‘ Thou knowest the records of our holy race. 

‘ Yes, I know them; hke all records, annals of blooa. 

‘ Annals of victory, that will dawn again.’ 

‘ If redemption be but another name for carnage, I envv 
no Messiah.’ 

‘ Art thou Jabaster’s brother ? ’ 

‘ So our mother was wont to say: a meek and blessed 
woman.’ 

‘ Lord Honain, thou art rich, and wise, and powerful. 
Thy fellow-men speak of thee only with praise or fear, and 
both are cheering. Thou hast quitted our antique ark; 
why ; no matter. We’ll not discuss it. ’Tis something, if 
a stranger, at least thou art not a renegade. The world 
goes well with thee, my Lord Honain. But if, instead of 
bows and blessings, thou, like thy brethren, wert greeted 
only with the cuff and curse; if thou didst rise each 
morning only to feel existence to be dishonour, and to 
find thyself marked out among surrounding men as some¬ 
thing foul and fatal; if it were thy lot, like theirs, at best 
to drag on a mean and dull career, hopeless and aimless, 
or with no other hope or aim but that which is degrading, 
and all this too with a keen sense of thy intrinsic worth, 
and a deep conviction of superior race; why then, per- 


eo 


ALROY. 


chance, Hoimin might even discovex’ ’twex’e ■'voi'th a straggle 
to be fi’ee and hononi’ed.’ 

‘ I pray your pardon, sir ; I thought you wei’O Jabas- 
ter’s pupil, a dreaming student. I see you have a deep 
ambition.’ 

‘ I am a prince; and I fain would be a jxrince without 
my fetters.’ 

‘ Listen to me, Ah’oy,’ said Honain in a low voice, and 
he placed his arm ai’ound him, ‘ I am your friend. Our 
acquaintance is very biuef: no mattei*, I love you ; I rescued 
you in injury, I tended yon in sickness, even now your life 
is in my power, I would protect it with my own. You 
cannot doubt me. Our affections are not under our own 
control; and mine are 3"ours. . The sympathy between us 
is entii’e. You see me, j^ou see what I am; a Hebi’ew, 
though unknown ; one of that despised, I’ejected, persecuted 
people, of whom you are the chief. I too would be free 
and honoux’ed. Freedom and honour are mine, but I was 
my own messiah. I quitted in good time our desjxei’ate 
cause, but I gave it a trial. Ask Jabaster how I fought. 
Youth could be 1x13" onl3' excuse for such indiscretioix. I 
left this coixntxy; I studied axid x’esided among the Greeks. 
I returned from Coxxstantixiople, with all their leaxming, 
some of their craft. Yo oxxe knew me. I assumed their 
turban, axxd I axn, the Lord Honaixi. Take my expe¬ 
rience, child, and save yourself much soxu’ow. Turxi 3^01x1’ 
late adventure to good account. IsTo one can recognise 
3"ou hex’e. I will intx’oduce 3'ou axnongst the highest as my 
child by some fair Greek. The world is before 3’ou. You 
may fight, 3^011 xna3' love, you xnay revel. War, and women, 
and luxuxy are all at yoixr coxnmand. With 3"our person 
and talents you xxxay be gvaxxd vizir. Clear 3^our head of 
noxxsense. In the presexxt disordered state of the empire, 
3"Ou xnay even carve 3^ourself out a kixigdoxn, infinitely mox'c 
delightful tliaxi the barrexx land of xnilk axid honey. I have 
seexi it, child ; a x’ock3^ wildexuiess, where I would not let 
in3^ coux’ser graze.’ 

He bent down, and fixed his eyes upon his companion 


ALROY. 61 

with a scrutinising glance. The moonlight fell ujoon tho 
resolved visage of the Prince of the Captivity. 

‘ Honain,’ he replied, pressing his hand, ‘ I thank thee. 
Thou knowest not me, but still I thank thee.’ 

‘ You are resolved, then, on destruction.’ 

‘ On glory, eternal glory.’ 

‘ Is it possible to succeed ? ’ 

‘ Is it possible to fail ? ’ 

‘ You are mad.’ 

‘ I am a believer.’ 

‘ Enough. You have yet one chance. My brother has 
saddled your enterprise with a condition, and an impossible 
one. Grain the sceptre of Solomon, and I will agree to bo 
your subject. You will waste a year in this frolic. You 
are young, and can afford it. I trust you will experience 
nothing worse than a loss of time, which is, however, 
valuable. My duty will be, after all your sufferings, to 
send you forth on your adventures in good condition, and 
to provide you means for a less toilsome pilgrimage than 
has hitherto been your lot. Trust me you will return to 
Bagdad to accept my offers. At present, the dews are 
descending, and we will return‘ to our divan, and take 
some coffee.’ 


CHAPTER Y. 

Some few days after this conversation on the terrace, as 
Alroy was reclining in a bower, in the beautiful garden of 
his host, meditating on the future, some one touched him 
on the back. He looked up. It was Honain. 

‘ Eollow me,’ said the brother of Jabaster. 

The Prince rose, and followed him in silence. They 
entered the house, and, passing through the saloon already 
described, they proceeded down a long gallery, which 
terminated in an arched flight of broad steps leading to 
the river. A boat was fastened to the end of the stairs, 
tloatiii"- on the blue line of the Tigris, bright in the sun. 



62 


ALROY. 


Honain now gave to Akoy a velvet bag, which he re¬ 
quested him to carry, and then they descended the steps 
and entered the covered boat; and, without any directions 
to the rower, they were soon skimming over the water. 
By the sound of passing vessels, and the occasional shouts 
of the boatmen, Alroy, although he could observe nothing, 
was conscious that for some time their course lay through a 
principal thoroughfare'of the city; but by degrees the 
sounds became less frequent, and in time entirely died 
away, and all that caught his ear was the regular and mo¬ 
notonous stroke of their own oar. 

At length, after the lapse of nearly an hour from their 
entrance, the boat stopped, and was moored against a quay. 
The curtains were withdrawn, and Honain and his com¬ 
panion disembarked. 

A low but extensive building, painted in white and gold 
arabesque, and irregular but picturesque in form, with 
many small domes, and tall thin towers, rose amid groves 
of cypress on the bank of the broad and silent river. The 
rapid stream had carried them far from the city, which was 
visible but distant. Around was no habitation, no human 
being. The opposite bank was occupied by enclosed gar¬ 
dens. Not even a boat passed. 

Honain, beckoning to Alroy to accompany him, but still 
silent, advanced to a small portal, and knocked. It was 
instantly opened by a single Nubian, who bowed reverently 
as the visitors passed him. They proceeded along a low 
and gloomy passage, covered with arches of fretwork, until 
they arrived at a door of tortoiseshell and mother of pearl. 
Here Honain, who was in advance, turned round to Alroy, 
and said, ‘Whatever happen, and whoever may address 
you, as you value your life and mine, do not speak.’ 

The door opened, and they found themselves in a vast 
and gorgeous hall. Pillars of many-coloured marbles rose 
from a red and blue pavement of the same material, and 
supported a vaulted, circular, and highly-embossed roof of 
purple, scarlet, and gold.^s Around a fountain, which rose 
fifty feet in height from an immense basm of lapis-lazuli. 


Ilkoy. 


63 


and reclining on small yellow Barbary mats, was a group 
of Nubian eunuchs, dressed in rich habits of scarlet and 
gold,^'* and armed with ivory battle-axes, the white handles 
worked in precious arabesque finely contrasting with the 
blue and brilliant blades. 

The commander of the eunuch-guard rose on seeing 
Honain, and, pressing his hand to his head, mouth, and 
heart, saluted him. The physician of the Caliph, motion¬ 
ing Alroy to remain, advanced somes paces in front of 
him, and entered into a whispering conversation with the 
eunuch. After a few minutes, this officer resumed his 
seat, and Honain, beckoning to Alroy to rejoin him, crossed 
the hall. 

Passing through an open arch, they entered a quadran¬ 
gular court of roses,each bed of flowers surrounded by a 
stream of sparkling water, and floating like an enchanted 
islet upon a fairy ocean. The sound of the water and the 
sweetness of the flowers blended together, and produced 
a lulHng sensation, which nothing but his strong and 
strange curiosity might have enabled AJroy to resist. Pro¬ 
ceeding along a cloister of light airy workmanship which 
connected the hall with the remainder of the buildings, 
they stood before a lofty and sumptuous portal. 

It was a monolith gate, thirty feet in height, formed of 
one block of green and red jasper, and cut into the fanciful 
undulating arch of the Saracens. The consummate artist 
had seized the advantage afforded to him by the ruddy 
veins of the precious stone, and had formed them in bold 
relief into two vast and sinuous serpents, which shot forth 
their crested heads and glittering eyes at Honain and his 
companion. 

The physician of the Caliph, taking his dagger from his 
girdle, struck the head of one of the serpents thrice. The 
massy portal opened with a whirl and a roar, and before 
them stood an Abyssinian giant,^6 holding in his leash a 
roaring lion. 

‘ Hush, Haroun ! ’ said Honain to the animal, raising at 
the same time his arm; and the beast crouched in silence. 


64 


ALROY. 


‘ Worthy More:argon, I bring you a remembrance.’ The 
Abyssinian showed his tusks, large]' and 'whiter than the 
lion’s, as he grinningly received the tribute of the courtly 
Honain; and he uttered a few uncouth sounds, but he 
could not speak, for he was a mute. 

The jasper portal introduced the companions to a long 
and lofty and arched chamber, lighted by high windows of 
stained glass, hung with tapestry of silk and silver, covered 
with prodigious carpets, and surrounded by immense 
couches. And thus through similar chambers they pro¬ 
ceeded, in some of which were signs of recent habitation, 
until they arrived at another quadrangle nearly filled by a 
most singular fountain which rose from a basin of gold 
encrusted with pearls, and 'which was surrounded by figures 
of every rare quadrujDed^^ in the most costly materials. 
Here a golden tiger, with flaming eyes of ruby and flowing 
stripes of opal, stole, after some bloody banquet, to the 
1 ‘ofreshing brink ; a cameleopard raised its slender neck of 
silver from the centre of a group of ever}'- inhabitant of the 
forest; and brilliant bands of monkeys, glittering with pre-* 
cious stones, rested, in every variety of fantastic posture, 
on the margin of the basin. 

The fountain itself was a tree of gold and silver spread¬ 
ing into innumerable branches, covered with every variety 
of curious birds, their plumage appropriately imitated by 
the corresponding tints of precious stones, and which 
'warbled in beautiful melody as they poured forth from 
their bills the musical and refreshing element. 

It was with difficulty that Alroy could refrain from an 
admiring exclamation, but Honain, ever quick, turned to 
him, with his finger pressed on his mouth, aud quitting the 
quadrangle, they entered the gardens. 

Lofty terraces, dark masses of cypress, winding walks of 
acacia, in the distance an interminable paradise, and here 
and there a glittering pavilion and bright kiosk! Its 
appearance on the river had not prepared Alroy for the 
extent of the palace itself. It seemed infinite, and it was 
evident that he had only viewed a small portion of it. 


ALROy. 


65 


While they were moving on, there suddenly arose a sound 
of trumpets. The sound grew nearer and nearer, louder 
and louder: soon was heard the tramp of an approaching 
troop. Honain drew Alroy aside. A procession appeared 
advancing from a dark grove of cypress. Four hundred 
men led as many white bloodhounds with collars of gold 
and rubies.^^ Then came one hundred men, each with a 
hooded hawk; then six horsemen in rich dresses ; after 
them a single horseman, mounted on a steed, marked on its 
forehead with a star.^° The rider was middle-aged, hand¬ 
some, and dignified. He was plainly dressed, but the staff 
of his hunting-spear was entirely of diamonds and the 
blade of gold. He was followed by a company of Nubian 
eunuchs, with their scarlet dresses and ivory battle-axes, 
and the procession closed. 

‘ The Caliph,’ whispered Honain, when they had passed, 
placing at the same time his finger on his lip to prevent 
any inquiry. This was the first intimation that had reached 
Alroy of what he had already suspected, that he was a 
visitor to the palace of the Commander of the Faithful. 

The companions turned down a wild and winding walk, 
which, after some time, brought them to a small and gently 
sloping lawn, surrounded by cedar-trees of great size. Upon 
the lawn was a kiosk, a long and many-windowed building, 
covered with blinds, and further screened by an overhang¬ 
ing roof. The kiosk was built of white and green marble, 
the ascent to it was by a flight of steps the length of the 
building, alternately of white and green marble, and nearly 
covered with rose-trees. Honain went up these steps alone, 
and entered the kiosk. After a few minutes he looked out 
from the blinds and beckoned to Alroy. David advanced, 
but Honain, fearful of some indiscretion, met him, and said 
to him in a low whisper between his teeth, ‘ Remember you 
are deaf, a mute, and a eunuch.’ Aboy could scarcely 
refi’ain from smiling, and the Prince of the Captivity and 
the physician of the Caliph entered the kiosk together. 
Two women, veiled, and two eunuchs of the guard, received 

F 


66 


ALROY. 


them in an antechamber. And then they passed into a 
room which ran nearly the whole length of the kiosk, 
opening on one side to the gardens, and on the other 
supported by an ivory wall, with niches painted in green 
fresco, and in each niche a rose-tree. Each niche, also, was 
covered with an almost invisible golden grate, which con¬ 
fined a nightingale, and made him constant to the rose he 
loved. At the foot of each niche was a fountain, but, 
instead of water, each basin was replenished -with the purest 
quicksilver.The roof of the kiosk was of mother-of-pearl 
inlaid with tortoise-shell; the pavement, a mosaic of rare 
marbles and precious stones, representing the most de¬ 
licious fruits and the most beautiful flowers. Over this 
pavement, a Georgian page flung at intervals refreshing 
perfumes. At the end of this elegant chamber was a divan 
of light green silk, embroidered with pearls, and covered 
with cushions of white satin and gold. Upon one of these 
cushions, in the middle of the divan, sat a lady, her eyes 
fixed in abstraction upon a volume of Persian poetry lying 
on her knees, one hand playing with a rosary of pearls and 
emeralds,®^ and the other holding a long gold chain, which 
imprisoned a white gazelle. 

The lady looked up as Honain and his companion entered. 
She was very young, as youthful as Alroy. Her long light 
brown hair, drawn off a high white forehead covered with 
blue veins, fell braided with pearls over each shoulder. Her 
eyes were large and deeply blue; her nose small, but high 
and aquiline. The fairness of her face was dazzling, and, 
when she looked up and greeted Honain, her lustrous 
cheeks broke into dimples, the more fascinating from their 
contrast with the general expression of her countenance, 
which was haughty and derisive. The lady was dressed in 
a robe of crimson silk girded round her waist by a green 
shawl, from which peeped forth the diamond hilt of a small 
poniard.23 jjgj. round white arms looked infinitely small, 
as they occasionally flashed forth from their large loose 
hanging sleeves. One was covered with jeAvels, and the 
right arm was quite bare. 


ALROY. 


67 


Honain advanced, and, 'bending, kissed the lady’s prof¬ 
fered band. Alroy fell into the background. 

‘ They told me that the Rose of the World drooped this 
morning,’ said the Physician, bending again as he smiled, 
‘ and her slave hastened at her command to tend her.’ 

‘ It was a south -wind. The wind has changed, and the 
Rose of the World is better,’ replied the lady laughing. 

Honain touched her pulse. 

‘ Irregular,’ said the Physician. 

‘ Like myself,’ said the lady. ‘ Is that a new slave ? ’ 

‘ A recent purchase, and a great bargain. He is good- 
looking, has the advantage of being deaf and dumb, and is 
harmless in every respect.’ 

‘ ’Tis a pity,’ replied the lady; * it seems that all good- 
looking people are born to be useless. I, for instance.’ 

‘ Yet rumour whispers the reverse,’ remarked the Phy¬ 
sician. 

‘ How so ? ’ inquired the lady. 

‘ The young King of Karasme.’ 

‘ Poh ! I have made up my mind to detest him. A 
barbarian! ’ 

‘ A hero! ’ 

‘ Did you ever see him ? ’ 

‘ I have.’ 

‘ Handsome ? ’ 

‘ An archangel.’ 

‘ And sumptuous ? ’ 

‘ Is he not a conqueror ? All the plunder of the world 
will be yours.’ 

‘ I am tired of magnificence. I built this kiosk to 
forget it.’ 

‘ It is not in the least degree splendid,’ said Honain, 
looking round with a smile. 

‘ Ho,’ answered the lady, with a self-satisfied air : ‘ here, 
at least, one can forget one has the misfortune to be a 
princess.’ 

‘ It is certainly a great misfortune,’ said the Physician. 


G8 


ALEOY. 


‘ And 3 ’^et it must be the only tolerable lot,* replied tbo 
lady. 

‘ Assuredly,’ replied Honain. 

‘ For our unhappy sex at least.’ 

‘ Very unhappy.’ 

‘ If I were only a man ! ’ 

‘ What a hero you would bo ! ’ 

‘ I should like to live in endless confusion.* 

‘ I have not the least doubt of it.’ 

‘ Have you got me the books ? ’ eagerly inquired the 
Princess. 

‘ My slave bears them,’ replied Honain. 

‘ Let me see them directly.’ 

Honain took the bag from Alroy, and unfolded its con¬ 
tents ; the very volumes of Greek romances which Ali, the 
merchant, had obtained for him. 

‘ I am tired of poetry, said the Princess, glancing over 
the costly volumes, and tossing them away ; ‘ I long to see 
the world.’ 

‘ You would soon be tired of that,’ replied the Physician. 

‘ I suppose common people are never tired,’ said the 
Princess. 

‘ Except with labour,’ said the Physician; ‘ care keeps 
them alive.’ 

‘ What is care ? ’ asked the Princess, with a smile. 

‘ It is a god,’ replied the Physician, ‘ invisible, but 
omnipotent. It steals the bloom from the cheek and light¬ 
ness from the pulse; it takes away the appetite, and turns 
the hair grey.’ 

‘ It is no true divinity, then,’ replied the Princess, but 
an idol we make ourselves. I am a sincere Moslem, and 
will not worship it. Tell me some news, Honain.’ 

‘ The young King of Karasme-’ 

‘ Again ! the barbarian ! You are in his pay. I’ll none 
of him. To leave one prison, and to be shut up in another, 
why do you remind me of it ? Ho, my dear Hakim, if I 
marry at all, I will marry to be free.’ 

‘ An impossibility,’ said Honain. 



ALKOV. 


()9 

‘ >.Iy niothev was free till slie was a queen and a slave. 
1 intend to end as she began. You know Avliat she was.’ 

Honain knew well, but he was too politic not to affect 
ignorance. 

‘ The daughter of a bandit,’ continued the Princess, ‘who 
fought by the side of her father. That is existence 1 I 
must be a robber. ’Tis in the blood. I want my fate 
foretold, Honain. You are an astrologer; do it.’ 

‘ I have already cast your nativity. Your star is a 
comet.’ 

‘ That augurs well; brilliant confusion and erratic splen¬ 
dour. I wish I were a star,’ added the Princess in a deep 
rich voice, and with a pensive air ; ‘ a star in the clear blue 
sky, beautiful and free. Honain, Honain, the gazelle has 
broken her chain, and is eating my roses.’ 

Alroy rushed forward and seized the graceful truant. 
Honain shot him an anxious look; the Princess received 
the chain from the hand of Alroy, and cast at him a scru¬ 
tinising glance. 

‘ What splendid eyes the poor beast has got!’ exclaimed 
the Princess. 

‘ The gazelle ? ’ inquired the Physician. 

‘ Yo, your slave,’ replied the Princess. 

‘ Why, he blushes. Were he not deaf as well as dumb, 
I could almost believe he understood me.’ 

‘ He is modest,’ replied Honain, rather alarmed ; ‘ and is 
frightened at the liberty he has taken.’ 

‘ I like modesty,’ said the Princess ; ‘ it is interesting. I 
am modest; you think so r ’ 

‘ Certainly,’ said Honain. 

‘ And interesting ? ’ 

‘ Very.’ 

‘ I detest an interesting person. After all, there is 
nothing like plain dulness.’ 

‘ .‘N’othing,’ said Honain. 

‘ The day flows on so serenely in such societ 3 ^’ 

‘ It does,’ said Honain. 

‘ No confusion ; no scenes.’ 


70 


ALROY. 


‘ None.’ 

‘ I make it a rule only to liave ngly slaves. 

‘ You are quite right.’ 

‘ Honain, will you ever contradict me ? You know very 
well I have the handsomest slaves in the world.’ 

‘ Every one knows it.’ . 

‘ And do you know, I have taken a great fancy to your 
new purchase, who, according to your account, is eminently 
qualified for the post. Why, do you not agree with me ? ’ 

‘ Why, yes; I doubt not your Highness would find him 
eminently qualified, and certainly few things would give 
me greater pleasure than offering him for your acceptance ; 
but I got into such disgrace by that late affair of the Cir¬ 
cassian, that --’ 

‘ Oh ! leave it to me,’ said the Princess. 

‘ Certainly,’ said the Physician, turning the conversation; 

‘ and when the young Kdng of Karasme arrives at Bagdad, 
you can offer him to his majesty as a present.’ 

‘ Dehghtful! and the king is really handsome and young 
as well as brave ; but has he any taste ? ’ 

‘ You have enough for both.’ 

* K he would but make war against the Greeks! ’ 

‘ Why so violent against the poor Greeks ? ’ 

‘ You know they are Giaours. Besides, they might beat 
him, and then I should have the pleasure of being taken 
prisoner.’ 

‘ Delightful 1 ’ « 

‘ Charming ! to see Constantinople, and marry the Em¬ 
peror.’ 

‘ Marry the Emperor ! ’ 

‘ To be sure. Of course he would fall in love with me.’ 

‘ Of course.’ 

‘ And then, and then, I might conquer Paris ! ’ 

‘ Paris ! ’ 

‘ You have been at Paris ? ’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘ The men are shut up there,’ said the Princess wdth a 
omile, ‘ are they not ? and the women do what they like ? ’ 

‘ You will always do what you hke,’ said Honain, rising. 



ALROY. 


71 


‘ You are going ? ’ 

‘ My visits must not be too long.’ 

‘ Farewell, dear Honain ! ’ said the Princess, with a me¬ 
lancholy air. ‘ You are the only person who has an idea 
in all Bagdad, and you leave me. A miserable lot is mine, 
to feel everything, and be nothing. These books and 
flowers, these sweet birds, and this fair gazelle: ah ! poets 
may feign as they please, but how cheerfully would I 
resign all these elegant consolations of a captive life for 
one hour of freedom ! I wrote some verses on myself 
yesterday; take them, and get them blazoned for me by 
the finest scribe in the city; letters of silver on a violet 
ground with a fine flowing border ; I leave the design to 
you. Adieu! Come hither, mute.’ Alroy advanced to 
her beckon, and knelt. ‘ There, take that rosary for thy 
master’s sake, and those dark eyes of thine.’ 

The companions withdrew, and reached their boat in 
silence. It was sunset. The musical and sonorous voice 
of the Muezzin resounded from the innumerable minarets 
of the splendid city. Honain threw back the curtains of 
the barque. Bagdad rose before them in huge masses of 
sumptuous dwellings, seated amid groves and gardens. An 
infinite population, summoned by the invigorating twilight, 
poured forth in all directions. The glowing river was 
covered with sparkling caiques, the ghttering terraces with 
showy groups. Splendour, and power, and luxury, and 
beauty were arrayed before them in their most captivating 
forms, and the heart of Alroy responded to their magni¬ 
ficence. 

‘ A glorious vision ! ’ said the Prince of the Captivity. 

‘ Very difierent from Hamadan,’ said the physician of 
the Caliph. 

‘ To-day I have seen wonders,* said Alroy. 

‘ The world is opening to you,’ said Honain. 

Alroy did not reply; but after some minutes he said, in 
a hesitating voice, ‘ Who was that lady ? ’ 

‘ The Princess Schirene,’ replied Honain, ‘ the favourite 
daughter of the Caliph. Her mother was a Georgian and 
a Giaour.’ 


ALROY. 


CHAPTEH VI. 

The moonliglib fell upon the figure of Alroy ljuug on a 
couch; his face was hidden by his arm. He was motion¬ 
less, but did not sleep. 

He rose and paced the chamber with agitated steps; 
sometimes he stopj)ed, and gazed on the pavement, fixed in 
abstraction. He advanced to the window, and cooled his 
feverish brow in the midnight air. 

An hour passed away, and the young Prince of the Cap¬ 
tivity remained fixed in the same position. Suddenly he 
turned to a tripod of porphyry, and, seizing a rosary of 
jewels, pressed it to his lips. 

‘ The Spirit of my dreams, she comes at last; the form 
for which I have sighed and wept; the form which rose 
upon my radiant vision when I shut my eyes against the 
jarring shadows of this gloomy world. 

‘ Schirene! Schirene ! here in this solitude I pour to 
thee the passion long stored up : the passion of my life, no 
common life, a life full of deep feeling and creative thought. 
O beautiful! 0 more than beautiful! for thou to me art as 
a dream unbroken: why art thou not mine ? why lose a 
moment in our glorious lives, and balk our destiny of half 
its bliss ? 

‘ Fool, fool, hast thou forgotten ? The rapture of a 
])risoner in his cell, whose wild fancy for a moment belies 
his fetters ! The daughter of the Caliph and a Jew! 

‘ Give me my fathers’ sceptre. 

‘ A plague on talismans ! Oh! I need no inspiration but 
her memory, no magic but her name. By hcaA^'ens ! I will 
enter this glorious city a conqueror, or die. 

‘ Why, what is Life ? for meditation mingles ever with 
my passion : why, what is Life ? Throw accidents to the 
dogs, and tear off the painted mask of false society ! Here 
am I a hero; with a mind that can devise all things, and 
a heart of superhuman daring, with j^outh, with vigour, 
with a glorious lineage, with a foi’in that has made full 


ALROY. 


many a lovely maiden of our tribe droop ber fair bead by 
Hamadan’s sweet fount, and I am, nothing. 

‘ Out on Society ! ’twas not made for me. I’ll form my 
own, and be tbe deity I sometimes feel. 

‘We make our fortunes, and we call them Fate.’ Tbou 
saidst well, Honain. Most subtle Sadducee ! Tbe saintly 
blood flowed in my fathers’ veins, and they did nothing ; 
but I have an arm formed to wield a sceptre, and I will 
win one. 

‘ I cannot doubt my triumph. Triumph is a part of my 
existence. I am born for glory, as a tree is born to bear 
its fruit, or to expand its flowers. The deed is done. ’Tis 
thought of, and ’tis done. I will confront the greatest of 
my diademed ancestors, and in his tomb. Mighty Solo¬ 
mon ! he wedded Pharaoh’s daughter. Hah I what a future 
dawns upon my hope. An omen, a choice omen ! 

‘ Heaven and earth are mingling to form my fortunes. 
My mournful youth, which I have so often cursed, I hail 
thee : thou wert a glorious preparation; and when, feeling 
no sympathy with the life around me, I deemed myself a 
fool, I find that I was a most peculiar being. By heavens, 
I am joyful; for the first time in my life I am joyful. I 
could laugh, and fight, and drink. I am new-born; I am 
another being ; I am mad ! 

0 Time, great Time ! the world belies thy fame. It 
calls thee swift. Methinks thou art wondrous slow. Fly 
on, great Time, and on thy coming wings bear me my 
sceptre! 

‘ All is to be. It is a lowering thought. My fancy, like 
a bright and wearied bird, will sometimes flag and fall, and 
then I am lost. The young King of Karasme, a youthful 
hero ! Would he had been Alschiroch ! My heart is sick 
even at the very name. Alas ! my trials have not yet 
begun. Jabaster warned me : good, sincere Jabaster ! His 
talisman presses on my frantic heart, and seems to warn 
me. I am in danger. Braggart to stand here, filling the 
careless air with idle words, while all is unaccomplished. 
I grow dull. The young King of Karasme ! Why, what 


74 


ALKOY. 


am I compared to tliis same prince ? Notliing, but in. my 
thoughts. In the full bazaar, they would not deem me 

worthy even to hold his stirrup or his slipper- Oh ! 

this contest, this constant, bitter, never-ending contest 
between my fortune and my fancy ! Why do I exist ? or, if 
existing, why am I not recognised as I would be ? 

‘ Sweet voice, that in Jabaster’s distant cave descendedst 
from thy holy home above, and whispered consolation, 
breathe again! Again breathe thy still summons to my 
lonely ear, and chase away the thoughts that hover round 
me ; thoughts dark and doubtful, like fell birds of prey 
hovering around a hero in expectation of his fall, and 
gloating on their triumph over the brave. There is some¬ 
thing fatal in these crowded cities. Faith flourishes in 
solitude.’ 

He threw himself upon the couch, and, leaning down 
liis head, seemed lost in meditation. He started up, and, 
seizing his tablets, wrote upon them these words : 

‘ Honain, I have been the whole night like Da\dd in the 
wilderness of Ziph ; but, by the aid of the Lord, I have con¬ 
quered. I fly from this dangerous city upon his business, 
which I have too much neglected. Attempt not to discover 
me, and accept my gratitude.’ 





ALROY, 


75 


PAET VI. 


CHAPTER I. 

A SCOECHINQ sun, a blue and burning sky, on every side 
lofty ranges of black and barren mountains, dark ravines, 
deep caverns, unfathomable gorges ! 

A solitary being moved in the distance. Paint and 
toiling, a pilgrim slowly clambered up the steep and stony 
track. 

The sultry hours moved on; the pilgrim at length gained 
the summit of the mountain, a small and rugged table-land, 
strewn with huge masses of loose and heated rock. All 
around was desolation : no spring, no herbage ; the bird 
and the insect were alike mute. Still it was the summit: 
no loftier peaks frowned in the distance; the pilgrim 
stopped, and breathed with more facility, and a faint smile 
played over his languid and solemn countenance. 

He rested a few minutes; he took from his wallet some 
locusts and wild honey, and a small skin of water. His 
meal was short as well as simple. An ardent desire to 
reach his place of destination before nightfall urged him to 
proceed. He soon passed over the table-land, and com¬ 
menced the descent of the mountain. A straggling olive- 
tree occasionally appeared, and then a group, and soon the 
groups swelled into a grove. His way wound through the 
grateful and unaccustomed shade. He emerged from the 
grove, and found that he had proceeded down more than 
half the side of the mountain. It ended precipitously in 
a dark and narrow ravine, formed on the other side by an 
opposite mountain, the lofty steep of which was crested by 
a city gently rising on a gradual slope. 

Nothing could be conceived more barren, wild, and 


76 


ALnoY. 


terrible than the surrounding scenery, unillumined by a 
single trace of culture. The city stood like the last gla¬ 
diator in an amphitheatre of desolation. 

It was surrounded by a lofty turreted wall, of an archi¬ 
tecture to which the pilgrim was unaccustomed : gates with 
drawbridge and portcullis, square towers, and loopholes 
for the archer. Sentinels, clothed in steel and shining in 
the sunset, paced, at regular intervals, the cautious wall, 
and on a lofty tower a standard waved, a snowy standard, 
with a red, red cross ! 

The Prince of the Captivity at length beheld the lost 
capital of his fathers. 


CHAPTER II. 

A FEW months back, and such a spectacle would have called 
forth all the latent passion of Alroy; but time and suffering, 
and sharp experience, had already somewhat curbed the 
fiery spirit of the Hebrew Prince. He gazed upon Jeru¬ 
salem, he beheld the City of David garrisoned by the 
puissant warriors of Christendom, and threatened by the 
innumerable armies of the Crescent. The two great divi¬ 
sions of the world seemed contending for a prize, which 
he, a lonely wanderer, had crossed the desert to rescue. If 
his faith restrained him from doubting the possibility of 
his enterprise, he was at least deeply conscious that the 
world was a very different existence from what he had 
fancied amid the gardens of Hamadan and the rocks of 
Caucasus, and that if his purpose could be accomplished, 
it could only be effected by one means. Calm, perhaps 
somewhat depressed, but full of pious humiliation, and not 
deserted by holy hope, he descended into the Valley of 
Jehoshaphat, and so, slaking his thirst at Siloah, and mount¬ 
ing the opposite height, David Alroy entered Jerusalem 
by the gate of Sion.^® 

He had been instructed that the quarter allotted to his 



ALROY. 


77 


people was near this entrance. He inquired the direction 
of the sentinel, who did not condescend to answer him. 
An old man, in shabby robes, who was passing, beckoned 
to him. 

‘ What want you, friend ? ’ inquired Alroy. 

‘ You were asking for the quarter of our people. You 
must be a stranger, indeed, in Jerusalem, to suppose that 
a Frank would speak to a Jew. You were luchy to get 
neither kicked nor cursed.’ 

‘ Kicked and cursed ! Why, these dogs-’ 

‘ Hush ! hush! for the love of God,’ said his new com¬ 
panion, much alarmed. ‘ Have you lent money to their 
captain that you speak thus ? In Jerusalem our people 
speak only in a whisper.’ 

‘ Ho matter : the cure is not by words. Where is our 
quarter.’ 

‘ Was the like ever seen! Why he speaks as if he 
were a Frank. I save him from having his head broken 

by a gauntlet, and-’ 

‘ My friend, I am tired. Our quarter ? ’ 

‘ Whom may you want ? ’ 

‘ The Chief Rabbi.’ 

* You bear letters to him ? ’ 

‘ What is that to you ? ’ 

‘ Hush ! hush ! You do not know what Jerusalem is, 
young man. You must not think of going on in this wa}". 
Where do you come from ? ’ 

‘ Bagdad.’ 

‘ Bagdad! Jerusalem is not Bagdad. A Turk is a brute, 
but a Christian is a demon.’ 

‘ But our quarter, our quarter ? ’ 

‘ Hush ! you want the Chief Rabbi ? ’ 

‘ Ay ! ay ! 

‘Rabbi Zimri?’ 

‘ It may be so. I neither know nor care.’ 

‘ Heither knows nor cares ! This will never do: you 
must not go on in this way at Jerusalem. You must not 
think of it.’ 




78 


ALROY. 


‘ Fellow, I see thou art a miserahle prattler. Show me 
our quarter, and I will pay thee well, or be off.’ 

‘Be off! Ai’t thou a Hebrew? to say ‘be off’ to any 
one. You come from Bagdad! I tell you what, go back 
to Bagdad. You will never do for Jerusalem.’ 

‘ Your grizzled beard protects you. Old fool, I am a 
pilgrim just arrived, wearied beyond expression, and you 
keep me here listening to your flat talk ! ’ 

‘ Flat talk ! Wliy! what would you ? ’ 

‘ Lead me to the Rabbi Zimri, if that be his name.’ 

‘ If that be his name ! Why, every one knows Rabbi 
Zimri, the chief rabbi of Jerusalem, the successor of Aaron. 
We have our temple yet, say what they like. A very 
learned doctor is Rabbi Zimri.’ 

‘ Wretched driveller. I am ashamed to lose my patience 
with such a dotard. 

‘ Driveller! dotard ! Why, who are you ? ’ 

‘ One you cannot comprehend. Without another word 
lead me to your chief.’ 

‘ Chief! you have not far to go. I know no one of the 
nation who holds his head higher than I do here, and they 
call me Zimri.’ 

‘ What, the Chief Rabbi, that very learned doctor ? ’ 

‘ Ho less ; I thought you had heard of him.’ 

‘ Let us forget the past, good Zimri. When great men 
play the incognito, they must sometimes hear rough phrases. 
It is the Caliph’s lot as well as yours. I am glad to make 
the acquaintance of so great a doctor. Though young, and 
roughly habited, I have seen the world a little, and may 
offer next Sabbath in the synagogue more dirhems than you 
would perhaps suppose. Good and learned Zimri, I would 
be your guest.’ 

‘ A very worshipful young man ! And he speaks low 
and soft now ! But it was lucky I was at hand. Good, 
what’s your name ? ’ 

‘ David.’ 

‘ A very honest name, good David. It was lucky I was 
at hand when you spoke to the sentinel, though. A Jew 


ALEOY. 


79 


speak to a Frank, and a sentinel too ! Hah ! hah ! hah ! 
that is good. How Rabbi Maimon will laugh ! Faith it 
was very lucky, now, was not it ? ’ 

‘ Indeed, most fortunate.’ 

‘Well, that is candid! Here! this way. ’Tis not far. 
We number few, sir, of our brethren here, but a better time 
will come, a better time will come.’ 

‘ I think so. This is your door ? ’ 

‘ An humble one. Jerusalem is not Bagdad, but you are 
welcome.’ 


CHAPTER IH. 

‘ King Pirgandicus entered them,’ said Rabbi Maimon, 
‘ but no one since.’ 

‘ And when did he live ? ’ inquired Alroy. 

‘ His reign is recorded in the Tahnud,’ answered Rabbi 
Zimri, ‘ but in the Talmud there are no dates.’ 

‘ A long while ago ? ’ said Alroy. 

‘ Since the Captivity,’ answered Rabbi Maimon. 

‘ I doubt that,’ said Rabbi Zimri, ‘ or why should he be 
called king ? ’ 

‘Was he of the house of David? ’ said Alroy. 

‘ Without doubt,’ said Rabbi Maimon; ‘he was one of 
our greatest kings, and conquered Juhus Csesar.’^s 

‘ His kingdom was in the northernmost parts of Africa,’ 
said Rabbi Zimri, ‘ and exists to this day, if we could but 
find it.’ 

‘ Ay, truly,’ added Rabbi Maimon, ‘the sceptre has never 
departed out of Judah; and he rode always upon a white 
elephant.’ 

‘ Covered with cloth of gold,’ added Rabbi Zimri. 

‘ And he visited the Tombs of the Kings ? ’ inquired 
Alroy. 

‘ Without doubt,’ said Rabbi Maimon. ‘ The whole ac¬ 
count is in the Tahnud.’ 

‘ And no one can now find them? ’ 

‘ No one,’ replied Rabbi Zimri; ‘ but, according to tnat 



80 


ALROY. 


learned doctor, Moses Hallevy, they are in a valley in the 
mountains of Lebanon, which was sealed up by the Arch¬ 
angel Michael.’ 

‘The illustrious Doctor Abarbanel, of Babylon,’ said 
Rabbi Maimon, ‘ gives one hundred and twenty reasons in 
his commentary on the Gemara to prove that they sunk 
under the earth at the taking of the Temple.’ 

‘ Ro one reasons like Abarbanel of Babylon,’ said Rabbi 
Zimri. 

‘ The great Rabbi Akiba, of Pundebita, has answered 
them all,’ said Rabbi Maimon, ‘ and holds that they were 
taken up to heaven.’ 

‘And which is right? ’ inquired Rabbi Zimri. 

‘ Neither,’ said Rabbi Maimon. 

‘ One hundred and twenty reasons are strong proof,’ said 
Rabbi Zimri. 

‘ The most learned and illustrious Doctor Aaron Men- 
dola, of Granada,’ said Rabbi Maimon, ‘has shown that 
we must look for the Tombs of the Kings in the south of 
Spain.’ 

‘ All that Mendola writes is worth attention,’ said Rabbi 
Zimri. 

‘ Rabbi Hillel,^® of Samaria, is worth two Mendolas any 
day,’ said Rabbi Maimon. 

‘’Tis a most learned doctor,’ said Rabbi Zimri; ‘and 
what thinks he ? ’ 

‘ Hillel proves that there are two Tombs of the Kings,’ 
said Rabbi Maimon, ‘ and that neither of them are the 
right ones.’ 

‘ What a learned doctor ! ’ exclaimed Rabbi Zimri. 

‘ And very satisfactory,’ remarked Alroy, 

‘ These are high subjects,’ continued Maimon, his blear 
eyes twinkling with complacency. ‘Your guest. Rabbi 
Zimri, must read the treatise of the learned Shimei, of 
Damascus, on “ Effecting Impossibilities.” ’ 

‘ That is a work ! ’ exclaimed Zimri. 

‘ I never slept for three nights after reading that work,’ 
said Rabbi Maimon. ‘It contains twelve thousand five 


ALllOy. 


81 


liundred and tliii’ty-seveu quotations from the Pentateuch, 
and not a single original observation.’ 

‘ There were giants in those days,’ said Rabbi Zimri; 
* we are children now.’ 

‘ The first chapter makes equal sense, read backward or 
forward,’ continued Rabbi Maimon. 

‘ Ichabod ! ’ exclaimed Rabbi Zimri. 

‘ And the initial letter of every section is a cabalistical 
type of a king of Judah.’ 

‘ The temple will yet be built,’ said Rabbi Zimri. 

‘ Ay, ay! that is learning ! ’ exclaimed Rabbi Maimon; 
‘ but what is the great treatise on “ Effecting Impossibilities ” 
to that profound, admirable, and-’ 

‘ Holy Rabbi! ’ said a youthful reader of the synagogue, 
who now entered, ‘the hour is at hand.’ 

‘ You don’t say so ! Learned Maimon, I must to the 
synagogue. I could sit here all day listening to you. 
Come, David, the people await us.’ 

Zimri and Alroy quitted the house, and proceeded along 
the nan’ow hilly streets to the chief temple of the Hebrews. 

‘ It grieves the venerable Maimon much that he cannot 
join us,’ said Rabbi Zimri. ‘ You have doubtless heard of 
him at Bagdad; a most learned doctor.’ 

' Alroy bowed in silence. 

‘ He bears his years well. You would hardly believe 
that he was my master.’ 

‘ I perceive that you inherit much of his erudition.’ 

‘You are kind. If he have breathed one year. Rabbi 
Maimon will be a hundred and ten next Passover.’ 

‘ I doubt it not.’ 

‘ When he is gathered to his fathers, a great light will 
be extinguished in Israel. You wanted to know something 
about the Tombs of the Kings; I told you he was your 
man. How full he was ! His mind, sir, is an egg.’ 

‘A somewhat ancient one. I fear his guidance will 
hardly bring me the enviable fortune of King Pirgandicus.’ 

‘ Between ourselves, good David, talking of King 
Pirgandicus, I cannot help fancying that the learned 

ft 



82 


ALROY. 


Maimon made a sliglit mistake. I hold Pirgandicus was 
only a prince. It was after the Captivity, and I know no 
authority for any of our rulers since the destruction as¬ 
suming a higher title. Clearly a prince, eh ? But, though 
I would whisper it to no one but you, I think our worthy 
friend grows a little old. We should remember his years, 
sir. A hundred and ten next Passover. ’Tis a great 
burden.’ 

‘ Ay! with his learning added, a very fearful burden 
indeed! ’ 

‘ You have been a week in Jerusalem, and have not yet 
visited our synagogue. It is not of cedar and ivory, bnt it 
is still a temple. This way. Is it only a week that you 
have been here ? Why, you look another man ! I shall 
never forget our first meeting: you did not know me. 
That was good, eh ? And when I told you I was the chief 
Babbi Zimri, how you changed! You have quite regained 
your appetite. Ah! ’tis pleasant to mix once more with 
our own people. To the left. So ! we must descend a 
little. We hold our meetings in an ancient cemetery. 
You have a finer temple, I warrant me, in Bagdad. Jeru¬ 
salem is not Bagdad. But this has its conveniences. ’Tis 
safe, and we are not very rich, nor wish to seem so.’ 


CHAPTER lY. 

A LONG passage brought them to a number of small, 
square, low chambers leading into each other. They 
were lighted by brass lamps, placed at intervals in vacant 
niches, that once held corpses, and which were now soiled 
by the smoky flame. Between two and three hundred in¬ 
dividuals were assembled in these chambers, at first scarcely 
distinguishable by those who descended from the broad 
daylight •, but by degrees the eyesight became accustomed 
to the dim and vaporous atmosphere, and Alroy recognised 
in the final and more illumined chamber a high cedar 



ALROY. 83 

cabinet, the type of the ark, and which held the sacred 
vessels and the sanctified copy of the law. 

Standing in lines, with their heads mystically covered, 
the forlorn remnant of Israel, captives in their ancient city, 
avowed, in spite of all their sufferings, their fidelity to their 
God, and, notwithstanding all the bitterness of hope de¬ 
layed, their faith in the fulfilment of his promises. Their 
simple service was completed, their prayers were read, 
their responses made, their law exhibited, and their chari¬ 
table offerings announced by their high priest. After the 
service, the venerable Zimri, opening a volume of the 
Talmud, and fortified by the opinions of all those illus¬ 
trious and learned doctors, the heroes of his erudite con¬ 
versations with the aged Maimon, expounded the law to 
the congregation of the people.**^ 

‘ It is written,’ said the Rabbi, ‘ “ Thou shalt have none 
other God but me.” Now know ye what our father Abra¬ 
ham said when Nimrod ordered him to worship fire? “Why 
not water,” answered Abraham, “which can put out fire? 
why not the clouds, which can pour forth water ? why not 
the winds, which can produce clouds ? why not God, which 
can create winds? ” ’ 

A murmur of approbation sounded throughout the con¬ 
gregation. 

‘Eliezer,’ said Zimri, addressing himself to a young 
Rabbi, ‘ it is written, that he took a rib from Adam when 
he was asleep. Is God then a robber ? ’ 

The young Rabbi looked puzzled, and cast his eyes on 
the gi’ound. The congregation was perplexed and a little 
alarmed. 

‘ Is there no answer ? ’ said Zimri. 

* Rabbi,’ said a stranger, a tall, swarthy African pilgrim, 
standing in a corner, and enveloped in a red mantle, over 
which a lamp threw a flickering light; ‘ Rabbi, some rob¬ 
bers broke into my house last night, and stole an earthen 
pipkin, but they left a golden vase in its stead.’ 

‘ It is well said ; it is well said,’ exclaimed the congrega¬ 
tion. The applause was loud. 


84 


ALIlOY. 


‘Learned Ziiiiri,’ continued the African, ‘ it is written in 
the Gemara, that there was a youth in Jerusalem who fell 
in love with a beautiful damsel, and she scorned him. And 
the youth was so stricken with his passion that he could 
not speak; but when he beheld her, he looked at her im¬ 
ploringly, and she laughed. And one day the youth, not 
knowing what to do with himself, went out into the desert; 
and towards night he returned home, but the gates of the 
city were shut. And he went down into the valley of Je- 
hoshaphat, and entered the tomb of Absalom and slept; 
and he dreamed a dream; and next morning he came into 
the city smiling. And the maiden met him, and she said, 
“ Is that thou; art thou a laugher? ’* and he answered, 
“ Behold, yesterday being disconsolate, I went out of the 
city into the desert, and I returned home, and the gates of 
the city were shut, and I went down into the valley of 
Jehoshaphat, and I entered the tomb of Absalom, and I 
slept, and I dreamed a dream, and ever since then I have 
laughed.** And the damsel said, “ Tell me thy dream.’* And 
he answered and said, “ I may not tell my dream only to 
my wife, for it regards her honour.” And the maiden grew 
sad and curious, and said, “ I am thy wife, tell me thy 
dream.’* And straightway they went and were married, 
and ever after they both laughed. Now, learned Zimri, 
what means this tale, an idle jest for a master of the law, 
yet it is written by the greatest doctor of the Captivity? ’ 

‘ It passeth my comprehension,* said the chief Rabbi. 

Rabbi Ehezer was silent; the congregation groaned. 

‘ Now hear the interpretation,’ said the African. ‘ The 
youth is our people, and the damsel is our lost Sion, and 
the tomb of Absalom proves that salvation can only come 
from the house of David. Dost thou hear this, young 
man?* said the African, coming forward and laying his 
hand on Alroy. ‘ I speak to thee, because I have observed a 
deep attention in thy conduct.’ 

The Prince of the Captivity started, and shot a glance 
at the dai’k visage before him, but the glance read nothing. 
The upper part of the countenance of the African half 


ALROY. 


85 


concealed by masses of dark matted liair, and the lower by 
his nncoutli robes. A flashing eye was its only character¬ 
istic, which darted forth like lightning out of a black 
cloud. 

‘ Is my attention the only reason that induces you to 
address me ? ’ inquired Alroy. 

‘ Whoever gave all his reasons ? ’ replied the African, 
with a laughing sneer. 

‘ I seek not to learn them. Suffice it, stranger, that 
liow much soever you may mean, as much I can under¬ 
stand.’ 

‘ ’Tis well. Learned Zimri, is this thy pupil? I congratu¬ 
late thee. I will match him against the hopeful Ehezer.’ 
So saying, the lofty African stalked out of the chamber. 
The assembly also broke up. Alroy would willingly have 
immediately followed the African, and held some further 
and more private conversation with him; but some minutes 
elapsed, owing to the officious attentions of Zimri, before 
he could escape ; and, when he did, his search after the 
stranger was vain. He inquired among the congregation, 
but none knew the African. He was no man’s guest and 
no man’s debtor, and apparently had never before been 
seen. 


CHAPTEH V. 

The trumpet was sounding to close the gates, as Alroy 
passed the Sion entrance. The temptation was irresistible. 
He rushed out, and ran for more than one hundred yards 
Avithout looking back, and when he did, he had the satis¬ 
faction of ascertaining that he Avas fairly shut out for the 
night. The sun had set, still the Mount of Olives was 
flushed with the reflection of his dying beams, but Jehosh- 
aphat at its feet was in deep shadow. 

He w’^andered among the mountains for some time, be¬ 
holding Jerusalem from a hundred different points of view, 
and Avatching the single planets and clustering constella- 



86 


ALROY. 


tions that gradually burst into beauty, or gathered into 
light. At length, somewhat exhausted, he descended into 
the vale. The scanty rill of Siloah looked like a thread 
of silver winding in the moonlight. Some houseless 
wretches were slumbering under the arch of its fountain. 
Several isolated tombs of considerable size rose at the 
base of Olivet, and the largest of these Alroy entered. 
Proceeding through a narrow passage, he entered a small 
square chamber. On each side was an empty sarcophagus 
of granite, one with its lid broken. Between these the 
Prince of the Captivity laid his robe, and, wearied by his 
ramble, soon soundly slept. 

After some hours he woke. He fancied that he had been 
wakened by the sound of voices. The chamber was not 
quite dark. A straggling moonbeam fought its way 
through an open fretwork pattern in the top of the tomb, 
and just revealed the dim interior. Suddenly a voice 
spoke, a strange and singular voice. 

‘ Brother, brother, the sounds of the night begin.’ 
Another voice answered, 

‘Brother, brother, I hear them, too.’ 

‘ The woman in labour ! ’ 

‘ The thief at his craft! ’ 

‘ The sentinel’s challenge ! ’ 

‘ The murderer’s step ! ’ 

‘ Oh ! the merry sounds of the night! ’ 

‘ Brother, brother, let us .come forth and wander about 
the world.’ 

‘We have seen all things. I’ll lie here and listen to the 
baying hound. ’Tis music for a tomb.’ 

‘ Choice and rare. You are idle. I like to sport in the 
starry air. Our hours are few, they should be fair.’ 

‘ Wliat shall we see. Heaven or Earth? ’ 

‘ Hell for me, ’tis more amusing.’ 

‘ As for me, I am sick of Hades.’ 

‘ Let us visit Solomon! ’ 

‘ In his unknown metropolis ? ’ 

‘ That will be rare.’ 


ALKOY. 


87 


‘ Bnt wliere, oh! where ? * 

‘ Even a spirit cannot tell. Bnt they say, bnt they say, I 
dare not whisper what they say.’ 

‘ Who told yon ? ’ 

‘ No one. I overheard an Afrite whispering to a female 
Ghonl he wanted to sednce.’ 

‘ Hah, hah ! hah, hah ! choice pair, choice pair ! We are 
more ethereal.’ 

‘ She was a beanty in her way. Her eyes were Inmi- 
nons, thongh somewhat dank, and her cheek tinged with 
carnation canght from infant blood.’ 

‘ Oh ! gay; oh ! gay ; what said they? ’ 

‘ He was a deserter withont leave from Solomon’s body- 
gnard. The trnll wriggled the secret ont.’ 

‘ Tell me, kind brother.’ 

‘ I’ll show, not tell.’ 

‘ I pr’ythee tell me.’ 

‘ Well, then, well. In Genthesma’s gloomy cave there 
is a river none has reached, and you must sail, and yon 

must sail- Brother ! ’ 

‘Ay.’ 

‘ Methinks I smeU something too earthly.’ 

‘ What’s that? ’ 

‘ The breath of man.’ 

‘ Scent more fatal than the morning air! Away, 
away! ’ 


CHAPTER YI. 

In the range of mountains that lead from OHvet to the 
river Jordan is the great cavern of Genthesma, a mighty 
excavation formed by the combined and immemorial work 
of Nature and of Art; for on the high basaltic columns are 
cut strange characters and unearthly forms,^^ and in many 
places the natural ornaments have been completed by the 
hands of the sculptor into symmetrical entablatures and 
fanciful capitals, the work, they say, of captive Dives and 
conquered Afrites, for the great king. 




88 


ALKUY. 


Ir was midniglit; the cold full moon showered its 
brilliancy upon this narrow valley, shut in on all sides by 
black and barren mountains. A single being stood at the 
entrance of the cave. 

It was Ah'oy. Desperate and determined, after listening 
to the spirits in the tomb, he resolved to penetrate the 
mysteries of Genthesma. He took from his girdle a flint 
and steel, with which he lighted a torch and then he 
entered. 

The cavern narrowed as he cautiously advanced, and 
soon he found himself at the head of an evidently arti¬ 
ficial gallery. A crowd of bats rushed forward and ex¬ 
tinguished his torch.He leant down to relight it, and 
in so doing observed that he trod upon an artificial pave¬ 
ment. 

The gallery was of great extent, with a gradual de¬ 
clination.'*^ Being in a straight line with the mouth of 
the cavern, the moonlit scene was long visible, but Alroy, 
on looking round, now perceived that the exterior was shut 
out by the eminence that he had left behind him. Tlie 
sides of the gallery were covered with strange and sculp¬ 
tured forms. 

The Prince of the Captivity proceeded along this gallery 
for nearly two hours. A distant murmur of falling wnter, 
which might have been distinguished nearly from the first, 
increased in sound as he advanced, and now, from the loud 
roar and dash at hand, he felt that he was on the brink of 
some cataract. It was very dark. His heart trembled. 
He felt his footing ere he ventured to advance. The spray 
suddenly leaped forward and extinguished his torch. His 
imminent danger filled him with terror, and he receded 
some paces, but in vain endeavoured to re-illumine his 
torch, w’hich wns soaked with water. 

His courage deserted him. Energy and exertion seemed 
hopeless. He was about to deliver himself up to despair, 
when an expanding lustre attracted his attention in the 
ojoposing gloom. 

A small and bright red cloud seemed sailing towards 


ALROy. 


89 


liim. It opened, discharged from its bosom a sih'ery star, 
and dissolved again into darkness. But the star remained, 
the silvery star, and threw a long line of tremulous light 
upon the vast and raging rapid, which now, fleet and foam¬ 
ing, revealed itself on all sides to the eye of Alroy. 

The beautiful interposition in his favour re-animated the 
adventurous pilgrim. A dark shadow in the foreground, 
breaking the line of light shed by the star upon the waters, 
attracted his attention. He advanced, regained his former 
footing, and more nearly examined it. It was a boat, and 
in the boat, mute and immovable, sat one of those vast, 
singular, and hideous forms, which he had observed sculp¬ 
tured on the walls of the gallery. 

David Alroy, committing his fortunes to the God of 
Israel, leapt into the boat. 


CHAPTER VH. 

And at the same moment the Afrite, for it was one of 
those dread beings,®® raised the oars, and the boat moved. 
The falling waters suddenly parted in the long line of 
the star’s reflection, and the barque glided through their 
high and severed masses. 

In this wise they proceeded for a few minutes, until they 
entered a beautiful and moonlit lake. In the distance 
was a mountainous country. Alroy examined his com¬ 
panion with a feeling of curiosity not unmixed with terror. 
It was remarkable that Alroy could never succeed in any 
way in attracting his notice. The Afrite seemed totally 
unconscious of the presence of his passenger. At length 
the boat reached the opposite shore of the lake, and the 
Prince of the Captivity disembarked. 

He disembarked at the head of an avenue of colossal 
lions of red granite,®^ extending far as the eye could reach, 
and ascending the side of the mountain, which was cut 
into a flight of magnificent steps. The easy ascent was 



90 


ALROY. 


in consequence soon accomplished, and Alroy, proceeding 
along the avenue of lions, soon gained the summit of the 
mountain. 

To his infinite astonishment he beheld Jerusalem. That 
strongly-marked locality could not be mistaken: at his feet 
were Jehoshaphat, Kedron, Siloah; he stood upon Olivet; 
before him was Sion. But in all other respects, how 
diflferent was the landscape from the one that he had 
gazed upon a few days back, for the first time ! The sur¬ 
rounding hills sparkled with vineyards, and glowed with 
summer palaces, and voluptuous pavilions, and glorious 
gardens of pleasure. The city, extending all over Mount 
Sion, was encompassed with a wall of white marble, with 
battlements of gold; a gorgeous mass of gates and pillars, 
and gardened terraces; lofty piles of rarest materials, ce¬ 
dar, and ivory, and precious stones; and costly columns 
of the richest workmanship and the most fanciful orders, 
capitals of the lotus and the palm, and fiowing friezes of 
the olive and the vine. 

And in the front a mighty Temple rose, with inspira¬ 
tion in its very form ; a Temple so vast, so sumptuous, 
that there needed no priest to tell us that no human hand 
planned that sublime magnificence ! 

‘ God of my fathers! ’ said Alroy, ‘ I am a poor, weak 
thing, and my life has been a life of dreams and visions, 
and I have sometimes thought my brain lacked a sufiicient 
master; where am I ? Do I sleep or live ? Am I a 
slumberer or a ghost? This trial is too much.’ He sank 
down, and hid his face in his hands: his over-exerted 
mind appeared to desert him: he wept. 

Many minutes elapsed before Alroy grew composed. 
His wild bursts of weeping sank into sobs, and the sobs 
died ofi* into sighs. And at length, calm from exhaustion, 
he again looked up, and lo! the glorious city was no 
more ! Before him was a moon-lit plain, over which the 
avenue of lions still advanced, and appeared to terminate 
only in the mountainous distance. 

This limit the Prince of the Captivity at length reached, 


ALROY. 


91 


and stood before a stupendous portal, cut out of tbe solid 
rock, four hundred feet in height, and supported by clusters 
of colossal Caryatides.®^ Upon the portal were-engraven 
some Hebrew characters, which upon examination proved 
to be the same as those upon the talisman of Jabaster. 
And so, taking from his bosom that all-precious and long- 
cherished deposit, David Alroy, in obedience to his instruc¬ 
tions, pressed the signet against the gigantic portal. 

The portal opened with a crash of thunder louder than 
an earthquake. Pale, panting, and staggering, the Prince 
of the Captivity entered an illimitable hall, illumined by 
pendulous balls of glowing metal. On each side of the 
hall, sitting on golden thrones, was ranged a line of kings, 
and, as the pilgrim entered, the monarchs rose, and took off 
their diadems, and waved them thrice, and thrice repeated, 
in solemn chorus. ‘ Ail hail, Alroy ! Hail to thee, brother 
king ! Thy crown awaits thee ! ’ 

The Prince of the Captivity stood trembling, with his 
eyes fixed upon the ground, and leaning breathless against 
a column. And when at length he had a little recovered 
himself, and dared again to look up, he found that the 
monarchs were re-seated ; and, from their still and vacant 
visages, apparently unconscious of his presence. And this 
emboldened him, and so, staring alternately at each side 
of the hall, but with a firm, perhaps desperate step, Alroy 
advanced. 

And he came to two thrones which were set apart from 
the others in the middle of the hall. On one was seated a 
noble figure, far above the common stature, with arms 
folded and down-cast eyes. His feet rested upon a broken 
sword and a shivered sceptre, which told that he was a 
monarch, in spite of his discrowned head. 

And on the opposite thi*one was a venerable personage, 
with a long flowing beard, and dressed in white raiment. 
His countenance was beautiful, although ancient. Age had 
stolen on without its imperfections, and time had only in¬ 
vested it with a sweet dignity and solemn grace. The coun¬ 
tenance of the king was upraised with a seraphic gaze, 


92 


ALKOY. 


and, as he thus looked up on liigli, with eyes full of love, 
and thanksgiving, and praise, his consecrated fingers seemed 
to touch the trembling wires of a golden harp. 

And further on, and far above the rest, upon a throne 
that stretched across the hall, a most imperial presence 
straightway flashed upon the startled vision of Alroy. 
Fifty steps of ivory, and each step guarded by golden 
lions,®^ led to a throne of jasper, A dazzling light blazed 
forth from the glittering diadem and radiant countenance 
of him who sat upon the throne, one beautiful as a woman, 
but with the majesty of a god. And in one hand he held a 
seal, and in the other a sceptre. 

And when Alroy had reached the foot of the throne, he 
stopped, and his heart misgave him. And he prayed for 
some minutes in silent devotion, and, without daring to 
look up, he mounted the first step of the throne, and the 
second, and the third, and so on, with slow and faltering 
feet, until he reached the forty-ninth step. 

The Prince of the Captivity raised his eyes. He stood 
before the monarch face to face. In vain Alroy attempted 
to attract his attention, or to fix his gaze. The large dark 
eyes, full of supernatural lustre, appeared capable of 
piercing all things, and illuminating all things, but they 
flashed on without shedding a ray upon Alroy. 

Pale as a spectre, the pilgrim, whose pilgrimage seemed 
now on the point of completion, stood cold and trembling 
before the object of all his desires and all his labours. But 
he thought of his country, his people, and his God; and, 
while his noiseless lips breathed the name of Jehovah, 
solemnly he put forth his arm, and with a gentle firmness 
grasped the unresisting sceptre of his great ancestor. 

And, as he seized it, the whole scene vanished from his 
sight! 




ALKOY.. 


9:^ 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Hours or years miglit have passed away, so far as the 
sufferer was concerned, when Alroy again returned to self- 
consciousness. His eyes slowly opened, he cast around a 
vacant stare, he was lying in the cavern of Genthesma. 
The moon had set, but the morn had not broken. A single 
star glittered over the brow of the black mountains. He 
faintly moved his limbs; he would have raised his hand to 
his bewildered brain, but found that it grasped a sceptre. 
The memory of the past returned to him. He tried to rise, 
and found that he was reposing in the arms of a human 
being. He turned his head; he met the anxious gaze of 
Jabaster! 


94 


ALROY. 


PAET VII. 


CHAPTER I. 

‘Your pace is troubled, uncle.’ 

‘ So is my mind.’ 

‘ All may go well.’ 

‘ Miriam, we bave seen tbe best. Prcpp.re yourself for 
sorrow, gentle girl. I care not for myself, for I am old, 
and age makes heroes of us all. I have endured, and can 
endure more. As we approach our limit, it would appear 
that our minds grow callous. I have seen my wealth, 
raised with the labours of a thoughtful life, vanish in a 
morn : my people, a fragile remnant, nevertheless a people, 
dispersed, or what is worse. I have wept for them, al¬ 
though no tear of selfish grief has tinged this withered 
cheek. And, were I but alone, ay ! there’s the pang. The 
solace of my days is now my sorrow.’ 

‘ Weep not for me, dear uncle. Rather let us pray that 
our God will not forsake us.’ 

‘ We know not when we are well. Our hours stole 
tranquilly along, and then we murmured. Prospering, we 
murmured, and now we are rightly stricken. The legend 
of the past is Israel’s bane. The past is a dream ; and, in 
the waking present, we should discard the enervating 
shadow. Why should we be free? We murmured against 
captivity. This is captivity: this damp, dim cell, where 
we are brought to die. 

‘ 0! youth, rash youth, thy being is destruction. But 
yesterday a child, it seems but yesterday I nursed him in 
these arms, a thoughtless child, and now our house has 
fallen by his deeds. I will not think of it; ’twill make 
me mad.’ 

‘ Uncle, dearest uncle, we have lived together, and we 



ALKOy. 


95 


■mil die together, and both in love; but, I praj yon, speak 
no harsh word of David.’ 

‘ Shall I praise him? ’ 

‘ Say nothing. What he has done, if done in grief, has 
been done all in hononr. Would yon that he had spared 
Alschiroch? ’ 

‘ Never ! I would have struck him myself. Brave boy, 
he did his duty; and I, I, Miriam, thy uncle, at whom they 
wink behind his back and call him niggard, was I wanting 
in that hour of trial ? Was my treasure spared to save my 
people ? Did I shrink from all the toil and trouble of that 
time P A trying time, my Miriam, but compared with this, 
the building of the Temple-’ 

‘ You were then what you have ever been, the best and 
wisest. And since our fathers’ God did not forsake us, even 
in that wilderness of wildest woe, I offer gratitude in pre¬ 
sent faith, and pay him for past mercies by my prayers for 
more.’ 

‘ Well, well, life must end. The hour approaches when 
we must meet our rulers and mock trial; precious justice 
that begins in threats and ends in torture. You are silent, 
Miriam.’ 

‘ I am speaking to my God.’ 

‘ What is that noise ? A figure moves behind the 
dusky grate. Our gaoler. No, no, it is Caleb ! Faithful 
child, I fear you have perilled much.’ 

‘I enter with authority, my lord, and bear good 
tidings.’ 

‘ He smiles ! Is’t possible ? Speak on, speak on ! ’ 

<Alroy has captured the harem of our Governor, as 
they journeyed from Badgad to this city, guarded by his 
choicest troops. And he has sent to offer that they shall 
be exchanged for you and for your household. And 
Hassan has answered that his women shall owe their free¬ 
dom to nothing but his sword. But, in the meantime, it 
is agreed between him and the messenger of your nephew, 
that both companies of prisoners shall be treated with all 
becoming courtesy. You, therefore, are remanded to your 



96 


ALKOY. 


palace, and tlie trumpet is now sounding before the great 
mosque to summon all the host against Alroy, whom Hassau 
has vowed to bring to Hamadan dead or alive.’ 

‘ The harem of the Governor, guarded too by his choicest 
troops ! ’Tis a great deed. He did remember us. Faithful 
boy ! The harem of the Governor ! his choicest troops ! 
’Tis a very great deed. Methinks the Lord is with him. 
He has his great father’s heart. Only think of David, a 
child! I nursed him, often. Caleb! Can this be David, 
our David, a child, a girl ? Yet he struck Alschmoch ! 
Miriam! where is she ? Worthy Caleb, look to your 
mistress ; she has fallen. Quite gone ! Fetch water. ’Tis 
not very pure, but we shall be in our palace soon. The 
harem of the Governor! I can’t believe it. Sprinkle, 
sprinkle. David take them prisoners ! Why, when they 
pass, we are obliged to turn our heads, and dare not look. 
More water : I’ll rub her hand. ’Tis warmer! Her eyes 
open! Miriam, choice news, my child! The harem of the 
Governor! I’ll not believe it! ’ 


CHAPTER II. 

‘ Once more within our walls, Caleb. Life is a miracle. 
I feel young again. This is home ; and yet I am a prisoner. 
You said the host were assembhng; he can have no chance. 
Think you, Caleb, he has any chance ? I hope he will die. 
I would not have him taken. I fear their tortures. Wo 
wiU die too; we will all die. How I am out of that dun¬ 
geon, methinks I could even fight. Is it true that he has 
joined with robbers ? ’ 

‘ I saw the messenger, and leamt that he first repaired 
to some bandits in the ruins in the desert. He had become 
acquainted with them in his pilgrimage. They say their 
leader is one of our people.’ 

‘ I am glad of that. He can eat with him. I would 
not have him eat unclean things with the Ishmaelites.’ 



ALROY. 


97 


‘ Lord, sir! our people gather to him from all quarters. 
’Tis said that Jabaster, the great Cabalist, has joined him 
from the mountains with ten thousand men.’ 

‘ The great Jabaster! then there is some chance. I 
know Jabaster well. He is too wise to join a desperate 
cause. Art sure about Jabaster? ’Tis a great name, a 
very potent spirit. I have heard such things of that 
Jabaster, sir, would make you stare like Saul before the 
spirit! Only think of our David, Caleb, making all this 
noise ! I am full of hope. I feel not like a prisoner. He 
beat the Harem guard, and, now he has got Jabaster, he 
will beat them all.’ 

‘ The messenger told me he captured the Harem, only to 
free his uncle and his sister.’ 

‘ He ever loved me; I have done my duty to him; I 
think I have. Jabaster ! why, man, the name is a spell! 
There are men at Bagdad who will get up in the night to 
join Jabaster. I hope David will follow his counsels in all 
things. I would I had seen his servant, I could have sent 
him a message.’ 

‘ Lord, sir ! the Prince Alroy has no great need of coun¬ 
sellors, I can tell you. ’Tis said he bears the sceptre of 
great Solomon, which he himself obtained in the unknown 
tombs of Palestine.’ 

‘ The sceptre of Solomon! could I but believe it! ’Tis 
an age of wonders ! Where are we ? Call for kliriam. I’ll 
tell her this. Only think of David, a mere child, our 
David wdth the sceptre of Solomon ! and Jabaster too ! I 
have great faith. The Lord confound his enemies!’ 


CHAPTER HI. 

* Gentle Rachel, I fear I trouble you; sweet Beruna, I 
thank you for your zeal. I am better now; the shock was 
great. These are strange tidings, maidens.’ 

‘Yes, dear lady! who would have thought of your 
brother turning out a Captain ? ’ 

it 




98 


. ALROY. 


‘ I am sure I always thonglit he was the quietest person 
in the world,’ said Beruna, ‘though he did kill Alschi- 
roch.’ 

‘ One could never get a word out of him,’ said Bachel. 

‘ He was always moping alone,’ said Beruna. 

‘And when one spoke to him he always turned away,’ 
said Leah. 

‘ Or blushed,’ added Imra. 

‘ Well, for my part,’ said the beautiful Bathsheba, ‘ I 
always thought Prince David was a genius. He had such 
beautiful eyes ! ’ 

‘ I hope he will conquer Hassan,’ said Bachel. 

‘ So do I,’ said Beruna. 

‘ I wonder .what he has done with the Harem,’ said 
Leah. 

‘ I don’t think he will dare to speak to them,’ said Imra. 

‘ You are very much mistaken,’ said Bathsheba. 

‘ Hark ! ’ said Miriam. 

‘ ’Tis Hassan,’ said Bathsheba ; ‘ may he never return ! ’ 

The wild drum of the Seljuks sounded, then a flourish of 
their fierce trumpets, and soon the tramp of horse. Behind 
the blinds of their chamber, Miriam and her maidens be- 
lield the magnificent troop of turbaned horsemen, who, 
glittering with splendid armour and bright shawls, and 
proudly bounding on their fiery steeds, now went forth to 
crush and conquer the only hope of Israel. Upon an 
Arab, darker than night, rode the superb Hassan, and, as 
he passed the dwelling of his late prisoners, whether from 
the exulting anticipation of coming triumph, or from a soft 
suspicion that, behind that lattice, bright eyes and brilliant 
fiices were gazing on his state, the haughty but handsome 
Seljuk flourished his scimetar over his head, as he threw 
his managed steed into attitudes that displayed the skill of 
its rider. 

‘ He is handsomer than Alschiroch,’ said Bachel. 

‘ What a shawl! ’ said Beruna. 

‘ His scimetar was like lightning,’ said Leah. 

‘ And his steed like thunder,’ said Imra. 


ALEOY. 


09 


‘ Tlie evil eye fall on him ! ’ said Bathsheba. 

‘ Loi’d,’ exclaimed Miriam, ‘ remember David and all his 
afflictions! ’ 


CHAPTER IV.- 

The deserted city of the wilderness presented a very 
different appearance from that which met the astonished 
gaze of ALroy, when he first beheld its noble turrets, and 
v/andered in its silent streets of palaces. 

Without the gates was pitched a numerous camp of 
those low black tents common among the Kourds and Turk¬ 
mans ; the principal street was full of busy groups engaged 
in all the preparations of warfare, and all the bustling ex¬ 
pedients of an irregular and adventurous life; steeds were 
stalled in ruined chambers, and tall camels raised their 
still visages among the clustering columns, or crouched, 
in kneeling tranquillity amid fallen statues and prostrate 
obelisks. 

Two ntonths had scarcely elapsed since Alroy and Ja- 
baster had sought Scherirah in his haunt, and announced 
to him their sacred mission. The callous heart of him, 
whose ‘mother was a Jewess,’ had yielded to their inspired 
annunciations. He embraced their cause with all the 
fervour of conversion, and his motley band were not long 
sceptical of a creed Avhich, while it assuredly offered danger 
and adventure, held out the jDrospects of wealth and even 
empire. Prom the city of the wilderness the new Messiah 
sent forth his messengers to the neighbouring cities, to 
announce his advent to his brethren in captivity. The 
Hebrews, a proud and stiff-necked race, ever prone to re¬ 
bellion, received the announcement of their favourite 
])rince with transport. The descendant of David, and the 
slayer of Alschiroch, had double claims upon their confi- 
tlence and allegiance, and the flower of the Hebrew youth 
in the neighbouring cities of the Caliphate repaffed in 
crowds to pay their homage to the recovered sceptre of 
Solomon. 



100 


ALROY. 


The affair was at first treated by the government with con¬ 
tempt, and the sultan of the Seljuks contented himself 
with setting a price upon the head of the murderer of his 
brother; but, when several cities had been placed under 
contribution, and more than one Moslem caravan stopped, 
and plundered in the name of the God of Abraham, of 
Isaac, and of Jacob, orders were despatched from Bagdad 
to the new governor of Hamadan, Hassan Subah, to suj)- 
press the robbers, or the rebels, and to send David Alroy 
dead or alive to the capital. 

The Hebrew malcontents were well apprised by their less 
adventurous but still sympathising brethren of everything 
that took place at the head-quarters of the enemy. SjDies 
arrived on the same day at the city of the wilderness, who 
informed Alroy that his uncle was thrown into a dungeon 
at Hamadan, and that a body of chosen troops were about 
to escort a royal harem from Bagdad into Persia. 

Alroy attacked the escort in person, utterly discomfited 
them, and captured their charge. It proved to be the 
harem of the Governor of Hamadan, and if for a moment 
the too sanguine fancy of the captor experienced a passing 
pang of disappointment, the prize at least obtained, as we 
have seen, the freedom and security of his dear though dis¬ 
tant friends. This exploit precipitated the expedition 
which was preparing at Hamadan for his destruction. The 
enraged Hassan Subah started from his divan, seized his 
scimetar, and without waiting for the auxiliaries he had 
summoned from the neighbouring chieftains, called to horse, 
and at the head of two thousand of the splendid Seljuk 
cavalry, hurried to vindicate his love and satiate his revenge. 

Within the amphitheatre which he first entered as a 
prisoner, Alroy sat in council. On his right was Jabaster, 
Scherirah on his left. A youth, little his senior, but tall 
as a palm-tree, and strong as a young lion, was the fourth 
captain. In the distance, some standing, some reclining, 
were about fifty men completely armed. 

‘ Are the people numbered, Abner ? ’ inquired Alroy of 
the youth. 


ALKOY. 


101 


‘ Even so; three hundred effective horsemen, and two 
thousand footmen; but the footmen lack arms.’ 

‘The Lord will send them in good time,’ said Jabaster; 
‘ meanwhile let them continue to make javelins.’ 

‘ Trust in the Lord,’ murmured Scherirah, bending his 
head, with his eyes fixed on the ground. 

A loud shout was heard throughout the city. Alroy 
started from his carpet. The messenger had returned. 
Pale and haggard, covered with sweat and sand, the faith¬ 
ful envoy W'as borne into the amphitheatre almost upon 
the shoulders of the people. In vain the guard endea¬ 
voured to stem the passage of the multitude. They clam¬ 
bered up the tiers of arches, they filled the void and 
crumbling seats of the antique circus, they supported them¬ 
selves upon each other’s shoulders, they clung to the 
capitals of the lofty columns. The whole multitude had 
fissembled to hear the intelligence ; the scene recalled the 
ancient purpose of the building, and Alroy and his 
fellow-warriors seemed like the gladiators of some old 
spectacle. 

‘ Speak,’ said Alroy, ‘ speak the worst. Ho news can 
be bitter to those whom the Lord wall avenge.’ 

‘ Ruler of Israel! thus saith Hassan Subah,’ answered 
tl^e messenger: ‘ My harem shall owe their freedom to 
nothing but my sword. I treat not with rebels, but I war 
not with age or woman; and between Bostenay and his 
household on one side, and the prisoners of thy master on 
the other, let there be peace. Go, tell Alroy I will seal it 
in his best blood. And lo! thy uncle and thy sister are 
again in their palace.’ 

Alroy placed his hand for a moment to his eyes, and then 
instantly resuming his self-possession, he enquired as to the 
movements of the enemy. 

‘ I have crossed the desert on a swift dromedary lent to 
me by Shelomi of the Gate, whose heart is with our cause. 
I have not tarried, neither have I slept. Ere to-morrow’s 
sunset the Philistines will be here, led by Hassan Subah 
himself. The Lord of Hosts be with us! Since we con- 


102 


ALROY. 


quered Canaan, Israel hath not struggled with such a 
power! ’ 

A murmur ran through the assembly. Men exchanged 
enquiring glances, and involuntarily pressed each other’s 
arms. 

‘ The trial has come,’ said a middle-aged Hebrew, who 
had fought twenty years ago with Jabaster. 

‘Let me die for the Ark ! ’ said a young enthusiast of the 
band of Abner. 

‘ I thought we should get into a scrape,’ whispered Kis- 
loch the Kourd to Calidas the Indian. ‘ What could have 
ever induced us to give up robbing in a quiet manner ? ’ 

‘ And turn Jews ! ’ said the Guebre, with a sneer. 

‘ Look at Scherirah,’ said the hTegro, grinning. ‘ If he is 
not kissing the sceptre of Solomon ! ’ 

‘ I wish to heaven he had only hung Alroy the first time 
he met him,’ said Calidas. 

‘ Sons of the Covenant! ’ exclaimed Alroy, ‘ the Lord hath 
delivered them into our hands. To-morrow eve we march 
to Hamadan ! ’ 

A cheer followed this exclamation. 

‘ It is written,’ said Jabaster, opening a volume, ‘ Lo ! I 
will defend this city, to save it, for mine own sake, and'for 
my servant David’s sake.’ 

‘ And it came to pass that night that the angel of the 
Lord went out, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians, an 
hundred four score and five thousand ; and when they arose 
early in the morning, behold! they were all dead corpses.’ 

‘ How, as I was gazing upon the stars this morn, and 
reading the celestial alphabet known to the true Cabalist,^^ 
behold ! the star of the house of David and seven other stars 
moved, and met together, and formed into a circle. And 
the word they formed was a mystery to me; but lo ! I have 
opened the book, and each star is the initial letter of each 
line of the Targum that I have now read to you. There¬ 
fore the fate of Sennacherib is the fate of Hassan Subah ! ’ 

‘ Trust in him at all times, ye people ; pour out your 

HEART BEFORE HIM : GOD IS A REFUGE FOR US. SeLAII ! ’ 


ALROY. 


103 


At this moment a female form appeared on the very top 
of the amphitheatre, npon the slight remains of the upper¬ 
most tier of which a solitary arch alone was left. The 
cliorus instantly died away, every tongue was silent, every 
eye fixed. Hushed, mute, and immovable, even Kisloch and 
his companions were appalled as they gazed upon Esther 
the Prophetess. 

Her eminent position, her imposing action, the flashing 
of her immense eyes, her beautiful but awful countenance, 
her black hair, that hung almost to her knees, and the white 
light of the moon, just rising over the opposite side of the 
amphitheatre, and which threw a silvery flash upon her 
form, and seemed to invest her with some miraculous ema¬ 
nation, while all beneath her was in deep gloom, these cir¬ 
cumstances combined to render her an object of universal 
interest and attention, while in a powerful but high voice 
she thus addressed them. 

‘ They come, they come! But will they go ? Lo ! hear 
ye this, O house of Jacob, which are called by the name of 
Israel, and are come forth out of the waters of Judah! I 
hear their drum in the desert, and the voice of their trumpets 
is like the wind of eve, but a decree hath gone forth, audit 
says, that a mortal shall be more precious than fine gold, 
yea, a man than the rich ore of Ophir. 

‘ They come, they come ! But will they go ? I see the 
flash of their scimetars, I mark the prancing of their cruel 
steeds; but a decree hath gone forth, and it says, a gleaning 
shall be left among them, as in the shaking of the olive-tree; 
two or three berries on the top of the uppermost bough ; 
four or five on the straggling branches. 

‘ They come, they come ! But will they go ? Lo I a 
decree hath gone forth, and it says, Hamadan shall be to 
thee for a spoil, and desolation shall fall upon Babylon. 
And there shall the wild beasts of the desert lodge, and 
howling monsters shall fill their houses, and there shall the 
daughters of the ostrich dwell, and there shall the screech- 
owl pitch her tent, and there shall the night-raven lay her 
eggs, and there shall the satyi’s hold their revels. And 


104 


ALROY. 


wolves shall howl to one another in their palaces, and 
dragons in their voluptuous pavilions. Her time is near at 
hand; her days shall not be prolonged; the reed and the 
lotus shall wither in her rivers ; and the meadows by her 
canals shall be as the sands of the desert. For, is it a light 
thing that the Lord should send his servant to raise up the 
tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of Israel ? 
Sing, 0 heavens, and be joyful, 0 earth, and break forth 
into singing, 0 mountains, for the Lord hath comforted his 
people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted! ’ 

She ceased; she descended the precipitous side of the 
amphitheatre with rapid steps, vaulting from tier to tier, 
and bounding with wonderful agility from one mass of ruin 
to another. At length she reached the level; and then 
foaming and panting, she rushed to Alroy, threw herself 
upon the ground, embraced his feet, and wiped off the dust 
from his sandals with her hair. 

The assembly broke into long and loud acclamations of 
supernatural confidence and sanguine enthusiasm. They 
beheld their Messiah wave his miraculous sceptre. They 
thought of Hassan Subah and his Seljuks only as of victims, 
and of to-morrow only as of a day which was to commence 
a new era of triumph, freedom, and empire ! 


CHAPTER V. 

Hassan Subah, after five days’ forced marches pitched his 
sumptuous pavilion in that beautiful Oasis, which had 
afforded such delightful refreshment to Alroy when a soli¬ 
tary pilgrim. Around for nearly a mile, were the tents of 
his warriors, and of the numerous caravan that had accom¬ 
panied him, laden with water and provisions for his troops. 
Here, while he reposed, he also sought information as to 
the position of his enemy. 

A party of observation, wfflich he had immediately des¬ 
patched, returned almost instantly with a small caravan 



ALKOY. 


105 


that had been recently plundered by the robbers. The mer¬ 
chant, a venerable and pious Moslem, was ushered into the 
presence of the Governor of Hamadan. 

‘ From the robbers’ haunt ? ’ inquired Hassan. 

‘ Unfortunately so,’ answered the merchant. 

‘ Is it far ? ’ 

‘ A day’s journey.’ 

‘ And you quitted it ? ’ 

‘ Yesterday morn.’ 

‘ What is their force ? ’ 

The merchant hesitated. 

‘ Do they not make prisoners ? ’ enquired the Governor, 
casting a scrutinising glance at his companion. 

‘ Holy Prophet! what a miserable wretch am I! ’ ex¬ 
claimed the venerable merchant, bursting into tears. ‘ A 
faithful subject of the Caliph, I am obliged to serve rebels, 
a devout Moslem, I am forced to aid Jews ! Order me to be 
hanged at once, my lord,’ continued the unfortunate mer¬ 
chant, wringing his hands. ‘ Order me to be hanged at 
once. I have lived long enough.’ 

‘ What is all this ? ’ enquired Hassan ; ‘ speak, friend, 
without fear.’ 

‘ I am a faithful subject of the Caliph,’ answered the mer¬ 
chant; ‘I am a devout Moslem, but I have lost ten thousand 
dirhems.’ 

‘ I am soiTy for you, sir; I also have lost something, but 
my losses are nothing to you, nor yours to me.’ 

‘ Accursed be the hour when these dogs tempted me! 
Tell me, is it sin to break faith with a Jew ? ’ 

‘ On the contrary, I could find you many reverend Mollahs, 
who will tell you that such a breach is the highest virtue. 
Come! come, I see how it is: you have received your freedom 
on condition of not betraying your merciful plunderers. Pro¬ 
mises exacted by terror are the bugbears of fools. Speak, 
man, all you know. Where are they ? What is their force ? 
Are we supposed to be at hand ? ’ 

‘ I am a faithful subject of the Caliph, and I am bound to 
serve him,’ replied the merchant; ‘ I am a devout Moslem, 


106 


ALEOY. 


and ’tis my duty to destroy all Giaours, but I am also a man, 
and I must look after my own interest. Noble Governor, 
tlie long and tbe short is, these scoundrels have robbed me 
of ten thousand dirhems, as my slaves will tell you: at least, 
goods to that amount. No one can prove that they be worth 
less. It is true that I include in that calculation the fifty 
per cent. I was to make on my shawls at Hamadan, but 
still to me it is as good as ten thousand dirhems. Ask my 
slaves if such an assortment of shawls was ever yet beheld.’ 

‘ To the point, to the point. The robbers ? ’ 

‘ I am at the point. The shawls is the point. For when 
I talked of the shawls and the heaviness of my loss, you 
must know that the captain of the robbers-’ 

‘ Alroy ? ’ 

‘ A fierce young gentleman, I do not know how they call 
him: said the captain tome, “Merchant, you look gloomy.” 
“ Gloomy,” I said, “ you would look gloomy if you were a 
prisoner, and had lost ten thousand dirhems.” “ What, is 
this trash worth ten thousand dirhems ? ” said he. “ With 
the fifty per cent. I was to make at Hamadan.” “Fifty per 
cent.,” said he ; “youare an old knave.” “ Knave! I should 
like to hear any one call me knave at Bagdad.” “Well, knave 
or not, you may get out of this scrape.” “ How? ” “ Why 
yen are a respectable-looking man,” said he, “and are a good 
Moslem into the bargain, I warrant.” “ That I am,” said I, 
“ although you be a Jew: but how the faith is to serve me 
here I am sure I don’t know, unless the angel Gabriel, as 
in the fifty-fifth verse of the twenty-seventh chapter of the 
Koran-” ’ 

‘ Tush, tush I ’ exclaimed Hassan; ‘ to the point.’ 

‘ I always am at the point, only you put me out. However, 
to make it as short as possible, the captain knows all about 
your coming, and is frightened out of his wits, although he 
did talk big; I could easily see that. And he let me go, 
you see, with some of my slaves, and gave me an order for 
five thousand dirhems on one Bostenay, of Hamadan, (per¬ 
haps you know him ; is he a good man?) on condition that 
I would fall in with you, and, Mohammed forgive me, tell 
you a lie ! ’ 




ALROY. 


107 


‘ A lie! ’ 

‘Yes, a lie; but these Jewish dogs do not understand 
what a truly religious man is, and when I began to tell the 
lie, I was soon put out. l^ow, noble Hassan, if a promise 
to a Jew be not binding on a true believer, and you will 
see me straight with the five thousand dirhems, I \vill be¬ 
tray everything at once.’ 

‘ Be easy about the five thousand d Aherns, good man, and 
tell me all.’ 

‘ You will see me paid ? ’ 

‘ My honour upon it.’ 

‘ ’Tis well! Ehiow then, the infamous dogs are very 
w'eak, and terrified at the news of your progress : one, 
whom I think they call Jabaster, has departed with the 
great majority'of the people into the interior of the desert, 
about seven hundred strong. I heard so; but mind, I do 
not know it. The young man, whom you call Alroy, being 
wounded in a recent conflict, could not depart with them, 
but remains among the ruins with some female prisoners, 
some treasure, and about a hundred companions hidden in 
sepulchres. He gave me my freedom on condition that I 
should fall in with you, and assure you that the dogs, full 
five thousand strong, had given you the go-by in the night, 
and marched towards Hamadan. They wanted me to 
frighten you ; it was a lie, and I could not tell it. And 
now you know the plain truth; and if it be a sin to break 
faith with an infidel, you are responsible for it, as well as 
for the five thousand dirhems, which, by the bye, ought to 
have been ten.’ 

‘ Where is your order ? ’ 

‘ ’Tis here,’ said the merchant, drawing it from his vest, 
‘ a very business-like document, drawn upon one Bostenay, 
whom they described as very rich, and who is here enjoined 
to pay me five thousand dirhems, if, in consequence of my 
information, Hassan Subah, that is yourself, return forth¬ 
with to Hamadan without attacking them.’ 

‘ Old Bostenay’s head shall answer for this.’ 

‘ I am glad of it. But were I you, T would make him pay 
me first.’ 


108 


ALKOY. 


‘ Merchant/ said Hassaii, ‘ have you any objection tn pay 
another visit to your friend Alroy ? ’ 

‘ Allah forbid ! ’ 

‘ In my company ? ’ 

‘ That makes a difference.’ 

‘ Be our guide. The dirhems shall be doubled.’ 

‘ That will make up for the fifty per cent. I hardly like 
it; but in your company that makes a difference. Lose no 
time. If you push on, Alroy must be captured. Now or 
never ! The Jewish dogs, to rifle a true believer ! ’ 

‘ Oglu,’ said Hassan to one of his officers. ‘ To horse ! 
Y^ou need not strike the tents. Can we reach the city by 
sunset, merchant?’ 

‘ An hour before, if you be off at once.’ 

‘ Sound the drums. To horse ! to horse ! ’ 


CHAPTER VI. 

The Seljuks halted before the walls of the deserted city. 
Their commander ordered a detachment to enter and re¬ 
connoitre. They returned and rej)orted its apparent deso¬ 
lation. Hassan Subah, then directing that a guard should 
surround the walls to prevent any of the enemy from es¬ 
caping, passed with his warriors through the vast portal 
into the silent street. 

The still magnificence of the strange and splendid scene 
influenced the temper even of this ferocious cavalry. They 
gazed around them with awe and admiration. The fierce¬ 
ness of their visages was softened, the ardour of their im¬ 
pulse stilled. A supernatural feeling of repose stole over 
their senses. No one brandished his scimetar, the fiery 
courser seemed as subdued as his lord, and no sound was 
heard but the melancholy, mechanical tramp of the dis¬ 
ciplined march, unrelieved by martial music, inviolate by 
oath or jest, and unbroken even by the ostentatious cara¬ 
coling of any showy steed. 



ALROY 


109 


It was sunset; the star of eve glittered over the white 
Ionian fane that rose serene and delicate in the flashing and 
purple sky. 

‘ This way, my lord ! ’ said the merchant guide, turning 
round to Hassan Subah, who, surrounded by his officers, 
led the van. The whole of the great way of the city was 
filled with the Seljukian warriors. Their ebon steeds, their 
snowy turbans, adorned with plumes of the black eagle and 
the red heron, their dazzling shawls, the blaze of their 
armour in the sunset, and the long undulating perspective 
of beautiful forms and brilliant colours, this regiment of 
heroes in a street of palaces. War had seldom afforded a 
more imposing or more picturesque spectacle. 

‘ This way, my lord ! ’ said the merchant, pointing to the 
narrow turning that, at the foot of the temple, led through 
ruined streets to the amphitheatre. 

‘ Halt! ’ exclaimed a wild shrill voice. Each warrior 
suddenly arrested his horse. 

‘ Who spoke ? ’ exclaimed Hassan Subah. 

‘ I! ’ answered a voice. A female form stood in the por¬ 
tico of the temple, with uplifted arms. 

‘ And who art thou ? ’ enquired Hassan Subah, not a little 
disconcerted. 

‘ Thine evil genius, Seljuk ! ’ 

Hassan Subah, pale as his ivory battle-axe, did not an¬ 
swer ; every man within hearing shuddered ; still the dread 
woman remained immovable within the porch of the 
temple. 

‘AYoman, witch, or goddess,’ at length exclaimed Hassan 
Subah, ‘ what wouldst thou here ? ’ 

‘ Seljuk! behold this star. ’Tis a single drop of light, 
yet who even of thy wild band can look upon it without 
awe ? And yet thou worse than Sisera, thou comest to 
combat against those, for whom even “ the stars in their 
courses fought.” ’ 

‘ A Jewish witch! ’ exclaimed the Seljuk. 

‘ A Jewish witch ! Be it so; behold, then, my spell falls 
upon thee, and that spell is Destruction. 


no 


ALROY. 


‘ Awake, awake, Deborali: awake, awake, utter a sorg ; 
arise Barak, and lead thy captivity captive, thou son of 
Abinoam ! ’ 

Immediately the slcy appeared to darken, a cloud of 
arrows and javelins broke from all sides upon the devoted 
Seljuks : immense masses of stone and marble were hurled 
I'rom all directions, horses were stabbed by spears impelled 
by invisible hands, and riders fell to the ground without a 
struggle, and were trampled upon by their disordered and 
afli-ighted brethren. 

‘ We are betrayed,’ exclaimed Hassan Bubah, hurling a 
javelin at the merchant, but the merchant was gone. The 
Seljuks raised their famous war cry. 

‘ Oglu, regain the desert,’ ordered the chieftain. 

But no sooner had the guard without the w^alls heard 
the war cry of their companions, than, alarmed, for their 
safety, they rushed to their assistance. The retreating 
forces of Subah, each instant diminishing as they retreated, 
were baffled in their project by the very eagerness of their 
auxiliaries. The unwilling contention of the two parties 
increased the confasion; and when the Seljuks, recently 
arrived, having at length formed into some order, had re¬ 
gained the gate, they found to their dismay that the portal 
was barricadoed and garrisoned by tbe enemy. Uninspired 
by the presence of their commander, who was in the rear, 
the puzzled soldiers were seized with a panic, and spurruig 
their horses, dispersed in all directions of the city. In vain 
Hassan Subah endeavoured to restore order. The moment 
was past. Dashing with about thirty men to an open 
ground, which his quick eye had observed in his progress 
down the street, and dealing destruction with every blow, 
the dreaded Governor of Hamadan, like a true soldier, 
awaited an inevitable fate, not wholly despairing that some 
chance might yet turn up to extricate him from his forlorn 
situation. 

And now, as it were by enchantment, wild armed men 
seemed to arise from every part of the city. From every 
mass of ruin, from every crumbling temple and mouldering 


AI^KOy. 


Ill 


mansion, from every catacomb and cellar, from behind 
every column and every obelisk, upstarted some desperate 
warrior Avitb a bloody weapon. The massacre of the Sel- 
juks was universal. The horsemen dashed wildly about 
the ruined streets, pursued by crowds of footmen; some¬ 
times, formed in small companies, the Seljuks charged and 
fought desperately; but, however stout might be their re¬ 
sistance. to the open foe, it was impossible to withstand 
their secret enemies. They had no place of refuge, no 
power of gaining even a moment’s breathing time. If 
they retreated to a wall it instantly bristled with spears ; if 
they endeavoured to form in a court, they sank under the 
falling masses which were showered upon them. Strange 
shouts of denunciation blended with the harsh braying of 
horns, and the clang and clash of cymbals and tambours 
sounded in every quarter of the city. 

‘ If we could only mount the walls, Ibrahim, and leap into 
the desert! ’ exclaimed Hassan Subab to one of his few re¬ 
maining comrades ; ‘ ’tis our only chance. We die here like 
dogs ! Could I but meet Alroy! ’ 

Three of the Seljuks dashed swiftly across the open 
ground in front, followed by several Hebrew horsemen. 

‘ Smite all, Abner. Spare none, remember Amalek,’ ex¬ 
claimed their youthful leader, waving his bloody scimetar, 

‘ They are down; one, two, there goes the third. My 
javelin has done for him.’ 

‘ Your horse bleeds freely. Where’s Jabaster?’ 

‘ At the gates ; my arm aches with slaughter. The Lord 
hath delivered them into our hands. Could I but meet their 
chieftain ! ’ 

‘ Turn, bloodhound, he is here,’ exclaimed Hassan 
Sabah. 

‘ Away, Abner, this affair is mine.’ 

‘ Prince, you have already slain your thousands.’ 

‘ And Abner his tens of thousands. Is it so ? This business 
is for me only. Come on, Turk.’ 

‘ Art thou Alroy? ’ 

‘ The same.’ 


112 


ALTIOY. 


‘ The slayer of Alschirocli ? ’ 

‘ Even so.’ 

‘ A rebel and a murderer.’ 

‘ What you please. Look to yourself.’ 

The Hebrew Prince flung a javelin at the Seljuk. It 
glanced from the breastplate; but Hassan Subah stag¬ 
gered in his seat. Recovering, he charged Alroy with 
great force. Their scimetars crossed, and the blade of 
Hassan shivered. 

‘ He who sold me that blade told me it was charmed, and 
could be broken only by a caliph,’ said Hassan Subah. ‘ He 
was a liar.’ 

‘As it may be,’ said Alroy, and he cut the Seljuk to 
the ground. Abner had dispersed his comrades. Alroy 
leaped from his fainting steed, and, mounting the ebon 
courser of his late enemy, dashed again into the thickest of 
the fight. 

The shades of night descended, the clamour gradually 
decreased, the struggle died away. A few unhappy Mos- 
lemin who had quitted their saddles and sought concealment 
among the ruins, were occasionally hunted out, and brought 
forward and massacred. Long ere midnight the last of the 
Seljuks had expired.®® 

The moon shed a broad light upon the street of palaces 
crowded with the accumulated slain and the living victors. 
Fires were lit, torches illumined, the conquerors prepared 
the eager meal as they sang hymns of praise and thanks¬ 
giving. 

A procession approached. Esther the prophetess, clash¬ 
ing her cymbals, danced before the Messiah of Israel, who 
leant upon his victorious scimetar, surrounded by Jabaster, 
Abner, Scherirah, and his chosen chieftains. Who could 
now doubt the validity of his mission? The wide and 
silent desert rang with the acclamations of his cnthusiastio 
Totarietj. 


ALKOY. 


113 


CHAPTER VII. 

Heavily tlie anxious hours crept on in the Jewish quarter 
of Hamadan. Again and again the venerable Bostenay 
discussed the chances of success with the sympathising but 
desponding elders. Miriam was buried in constant prayer. 
Their most sanguine hopes did not extend beyond the escape 
of their Prince. 

A fortnight had elapsed, and no news had been received 
of the progress of the expedition, when suddenly, towards 
sunset, a sentinel on a watch-tower announced the appear¬ 
ance of an armed force in the distance. The walls were 
instantly hned with the anxious inhabitants, the streets and 
squares filled with curious crowds. Exultation sat on the 
triumphant brow of the Moslemin; a cold tremor stole over 
the fiuttering heart of the Hebrew. 

‘ There is but one God,’ said the captain of the gate. 

‘ And Mohammed is His prophet,’ responded a sentinel. 

‘ To-morrow we wdll cut off the noses of all these Jewish 
dogs.’ 

‘ The sceptre has departed,’ exclaimed the despairing 
Bostenay. 

‘ Lord remember David! ’ whispered Miriam, as she 
threw herself upon the court of the palace, and buried her 
face in ashes. 

The Mollahs in solemn procession advanced to the ram¬ 
parts, to shed their benediction on the victorious Hassan 
Subah. The Muezzin ascended the minarets to watch the 
setting sun, and proclaim the power of Allah with renewed 
enthusiasm. 

‘ I wonder if Alroy be dead or alive,’ said the captain of 
the gate. 

‘ If he be alive, he will be impaled,’ responded a sentinel. 

‘ If dead, the carcass will be given to the dogs,’ rejoined 
the captain ; ‘ that is the practice.’ 

‘ Bostenay will be hung,’ said the sentinel. 

‘And his niece, too,’ answered the captain. 

1 


114 


ALEOY. 


‘Hem!’ said the sentinel. ‘ Hassan Subah loves a black 
eye.’ 

‘ I hope a true Moslem will not touch a Jewess,’ exclaimed 
an indignant black eunuch. 

‘ They approach. What a dust! ’ said the captain of the 
gate. 

‘ I see Hassan Subah! ’ said the sentinel. 

‘ So do I,’ said the eunuch, ‘ I know his black horse.’ 

‘ I wonder how many dirhems old Bostenay is worth,’ said 
the captain. 

‘ Immense ! ’ said the sentinel. 

‘ Ho plunder, I suppose ? ’ said the eunuch. 

‘We shall see,’ said the captain; ‘at any rate, I owe a 
thousand to old Shelomi. We need not pay now, you 
know.’ 

‘ Certainly not,’ said the black eunuch. ‘ The rebels! ’ 

A body of horsemen dashed forward. Their leader in ad¬ 
vance reined in his fiery charger beneatb the walls. 

‘In the name of the Prophet, who is that?’ exclaimed 
the captain of the gate, a little confused. 

‘ I never saw him before,’ said the sentinel, ‘ although he 
is in the Seljuk dress. ’Tis some one from Bagdad, I 
guess.’ 

A trumpet sounded. 

‘ Who keeps the gate ? ’ called out the warrior. 

‘ I am the captain of the gate,’ answered our friend. 

‘ Open it, then, to the King of Israel.’ 

‘ To whom ? ’ enquired the astonished captain. 

‘To King David. The Lord hath delivered Hassan 
Subah and his host into our hands, and of all the proud 
Seljuks none remaineth. Open thy gates, I say, and lose 
no time. I am Jabaster, a lieutenant of the Lord; this 
scimetar is my commission. Open thy gates, and thou and 
thy people shall have that mercy which they have never 
shown ; but if thou delayest one instant, thus saith the King 
our master, “ I will burst open your portal, and smite, and 
utterly destroy all that you have, and spare them not; but 


ALROY. 11^ 

slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and 
sheep, camel and ass.” ’ 

‘ Call forth the venerable Lord Bostenay,’ said the cap¬ 
tain of the gate, with chattering teeth. ‘ He will intercede 
for ns.’ 

‘And the gentle Lady Miriam,’ said the sentinel. ‘ She 
is ever charitable.’ 

‘ I will head the procession,’ said the black eunnch ; ‘ I 
am accustomed to women.’ 

The procession of Mollahs shuffled back to their college 
with profane precipitation; the sun set, and the astounded 
Muezzin stood with their mouths open, and quite forgot to 
announce the power of their Deity, and the vahdity of their 
Prophet. The people all called out for the venerable Lord 
Bostenay and the gentle Lady Miriam, and ran in crowds to 
see who could first kiss the hem of their garments. 

The principal gate of Hamadan opened into the square 
of the great mosque. Here the whole population of the 
city appeared assembled. The gates were thrown open; 
Jabaster and his companions mounted guard. The short 
twihght died away, the shades of night descended. The 
minarets were illumined,®^ the houses hung with garlands, 
the ramparts covered with tapestry and carpets. 

A clang of drums, trumpets, and cymbals announced the 
arrival of the Hebrew army. The people shouted, the 
troops without responded with a long cheer of triumph. 
Amid the blaze of torches, a youth waving his scimetar, 
upon a coal-black steed, bounded into the city, at the head 
of his guards, the people fell upon their knees, and shouted 
‘ Long live Alroy! ’ 

A venerable man, leading a beauteous maiden with down¬ 
cast eyes, advanced. They headed a deputation of the 
chief inhabitants of the city. They came to solicit mercy 
and protection. At the sight of them, the youthful warrior 
leaped from his horse, flung away his scimetar, and clasp¬ 
ing the maiden in his arms, exclaimed, ‘ Miriam, my sister, 
this, this indeed is triumph ! ’ 


2 


116 


ALEOY. 


m 

CHAPTER VIII. 

‘ Drink,’ said KislocE the Kourd to Calidas the Indian; 
* yon forget, comrade, we are no longer Moslemin.’ 

‘ Wine, methinks, has a peculiarly pleasant flavour in a 
golden cup,’ said the Guehre. ‘ I got this little trifle to¬ 
day in the Bazaar,’ he added, holding up a magnificent vase 
studded with gems. 

‘ I thought plunder was forbidden,’ grinned the Hegro. 

‘ So it is,’ replied the Guehre; ‘ but we may purchase 
what we please, upon credit.’ 

‘ Well, for my part, I am a moderate man,’ exclaimed 
Calidas the Indian, ‘and would not injure even these 
accursed dogs of Turks. I have not cut my host’s throat, 
but only turned him into my porter, and content myself 
with his harem, his baths, his fine horses, and other little 
trifles.’ 

‘ What quarters we are in ! There is nothing like a true 
Messiah ! ’ exelaimed Kisloch, devoutly. 

‘ Nothing,’ said Calidas ; ‘ though to speak truth, I did 
not much believe in the efficacy of Solomon’s sceptre, 
till his Majesty clove the head of the valliant Seljuk with 
it.’ 

‘ But now there’s no doubt of it,’ said the Guebre. 

‘We should indeed be infidels if we doubted now,’ re¬ 
plied the Indian. 

‘ How lucky,’ grinned the Negro, ‘ as I had no religion 
before, that I have now fixed upon the right one! ’ 

‘ Most fortunate ! ’ said the Guebre. ‘ What shall we do 
to amuse ourselves to-night? ’ 

‘Let us go to the coffee-houses and make the Turks 
drink wine,’ said Calidas the Indian. 

‘ What say you to burning down a mosque? ’ said Kisloch 
the Kourd. 

‘ I had great fun with some Dervishes this morning,’ said 
the Guebre. ‘ I met one asking alms with a wire run 


ALROY. 


117 


tbrough his cheek,so 1 caught another, bored his nose, 
and tied them both together ! ’ 

‘ Hah! hah ! hah ! ’ burst the Hegro. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Asia resounded with the insurrection of the Jews and the 
massacre of the Seljuks. Crowds of Hebrews, from the 
rich cities of Persia and the populous settlements on the 
Tigris and the Euphrates, hourly poured into Hamadan, 

The irritated Moslemin persecuted the brethren of the 
successful rebel, and this impolicy precipitated their flight. 
The wealth of Bagdad flowed into the Hebrew capital. 
Seated on the divan of Hassan Subab, and wielding tbe 
sceptre of Solomon, the King of Israel received the hom¬ 
age of his devoted subjects, and despatched his envoys 
to Syria and to Egypt. The well-stored magazines and 
arsenals of Hamadan soon converted the pilgrims into 
warriors. The city was unable to accommodate the in¬ 
creased and increasing population. An extensive camp, 
under the command of Abner, was formed without the 
walls, where the troops were daily disciplined, and where 
they were prepared for greater exploits than a skirmish in 
a desert. 

Within a month after the surrender of Hamadan, the 
congregation of the people assembled in the square of the 
great mosque, now converted into a synagogue. The mul¬ 
titude was disposed in ordered ranks, and the terrace of 
every house was crowded. In the centre of the square was 
an altar of cedar and brass, and on each side stood a com- 
])any of priests guarding the victims, one young bullock, 
and two rams without blemish. 

Amid the flourish of trumpets, the gates of tbe synagogue 
opened, and displayed to the wondering eyes of the Hebrews 
a vast and variegated pavilion planted in the court. The 
holy remnant, no longer forlorn, beheld that tabernacle of 



118 


ALROY. 


'Nvliicli they had so long dreamed, once more shining in tho 
sun, with its purple and scarlet hangings, its curtains of 
rare skins, and its furniture of silver and gold. 

A procession of priests advanced, bearing, v/ith staves of 
cedar, run through rings of gold, a gorgeous ark, the work 
of the most cunning artificers of Persia. Night and. day 
had they laboured, under the direction of Jabaster, to pro¬ 
duce this wondrous spectacle. Once more the children of 
Israel beheld the cherubim. They burst into a triumphant 
hymn of thanksgiving, and many drew their swords, and 
cried aloud to be led against the Canaanites. 

From the mysterious curtains of the tabernacle, Alroy 
came forward, leading Jabaster. They approached the altar. 
And Alroy took robes from the surrounding priests, and 
put them upon Jabaster, and a girdle, and a breast-plate of 
jewels. And Alroy took a mitre, and placed it upon the 
head of Jabaster, and upon the mitre he placed a crown ; 
and, pouring oil upon his head, the pupil anointed the master 
High Priest of Israel. 

The victims were slain, the sin-offering burnt. Amid 
clouds of incense, bursts of music, and the shouts of a 
devoted people ; amid odour, and melody, and enthusiasm; 
Alroy mounted his charger, and at the head of twenty 
thousand men, departed to conquer Media. 


CHAPTER X. 

The extensive and important province of Aderbijan, of 
which Hamadan was the capital, was formed of the ancient 
Media. Its fate was decided by one battle. On the plain 
of Nehauend, Alroy met the hastily-raised levies of tho 
Atabek of Kermanshah, and entirely routed them. In the 
course of a month, every city of the province had acknow¬ 
ledged the supremacy of the new Hebrew monarch, and, 
leaving Abner to complete the conquest of Louristan, Alroy 
entered Persia. 



.ALEOY. 


119 


The incredible and irresistible progress of Alroy roused 
Togrul, the Turkish Sultan of Persia, from the luxurious 
indolence of the palaces of Nishabur. He summoned his 
emirs to meet him at the imperial city of Rhey, and crush, 
by one overwhelming effort, the insolent rebel. 

Religion, valour, and genius, alike inspired the arms of 
Alroy, but he was, doubtless, not a little assisted by the 
strong national sympathy of his singular and scattered 
people, which ever ensured him prompt information of all 
the movements of his enemy. Without any preparation, 
he found agents in every court, and camp, and cabinet; and, 
by their assistance, he anticipated the designs of his adver¬ 
saries, and turned even their ingenuity to their confusion. 
The imperial city of Rhey was surprised in the night, 
sacked, and burnt to the ground. The scared and baffled 
emirs who escaped, flew to the Sultan Togrul, tearing their 
beards, and prophesying the approaching termination of the 
world. The palaces of Nishabur resounded with the im¬ 
precations of their master, wfflo, cursing the Jewish dogs, 
and vowing a pilgrimage to Mecca, placed himself at the 
head of a motley multitude of warriors, and rushed upon the 
2)lains of Irak, to exterminate Alroy. 

The Persian force exceeded the Hebrew at least five times 
in number. Besides a large division of Seljuks, the Can-' 
casus had poured forth its strange inhabitants to swell the 
ranks of the Faithful. The wild tribes of the Bactiari were 
even enlisted, with their fatal bows, and the savage Turk¬ 
mans, tempted by the sultan’s gold, for a moment yielded 
their liberty, and shook their tall lances in his ranks. 

But what is a wild Bactiari, and what is a savage Turk¬ 
man, and what even a disciplined and imperious Seljuk, to 
the warriors of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of 
Jacob? At the first onset, Alroy succeeded in dividing 
the extended centre of Togrul, and separating the greater 
part of the Turks from their less disciplined comrades. At 
the head of his Median cavalry, the Messiah charged and 
utterly routed the warriors of the Caucasus. The wild 
tribes of the Bactiari discharged their arrows and fled, and 


120 


ALROY. 


the savage Turkmans plundered the baggage of their own 
commander. 

The Turks themselves fought desperately ; but, deserted 
by their allies, and surrounded by an inspired foe, their 
efforts were unavailing, and their slaughter terrible. 
Togrul was slain while heading a desperate and fruitless 
charge, and, after his fall, the battle resembled a massacre 
rather than a combat. The plain was glotted with Seljuk 
gore. No quarter was given or asked. Twenty thousand 
chosen troops fell on the side of the Turks ; the rest dis¬ 
persed and gained the mountains. Leaving Scherirah to 
restore order, Alroy the next morning pushed on to Nisha- 
bur at the head of three thousand horsemen, and sum¬ 
moned the city ere the inhabitants were aj^prised of the 
defeat and death of their sultan. The capital of Persia 
escaped the fate of Rhey by an inglorious treaty and a 
lavish tribute. The treasures of the Chosroes and the Gas- 
nevides were despatched to Hamadan, on which city day 
dawned, only to bring intelligence of a victory or a con¬ 
quest. 

While Alroy dictated peace on his own terms in the 
palaces of Nishabur, Abner, having reduced Louristan, 
crossed the mountains, and entered Persia with the rein¬ 
forcements he had received from Jabaster. Leaving the 
government and garrisoning of his new conquests to this 
valiant captain, Alroy, at the head of the conquerors of 
Persia, in consequence of intelligence received from Hania- 
dan, returned by forced marches to that city. 


CHAPTER XL 

Leaving the army within a day’s march of the caj^dtal, 
Alroy, accompanied only by his staff, entered Hamadan in 
the evening, and, immediately repairing to the citadel, 
summoned Jabaster to council. The night was passed by 
the king and the high priest in deep consultation. The 



ALKOY. 


121 


next morning, a decree apprised the inhabitants of the 
I’eturn of their monarch, of the creation of the new ‘ King¬ 
dom of the Medes and Persians,’ of which Hamadan was 
declared the capital, and Abner the viceroy, and of the in¬ 
tended and immediate invasion of Syria, and re-conquest 
of the Land of Promise. 

The plan of this expedition had been long matured, and 
the preparations to effect it were considerably advanced. 
Jabaster had not been idle during the absence of his pupil. 
One hundred thousand warriors were now assembled®^ at 
the capital of the kingdom of the Medes and Persians ; of 
these the greater part were Hebrews, but many Arabs, 
wearied of the Turkish yoke, and many gallant adventurers 
from the Caspian, easily converted from a vague idolatiy 
to a religion of conquest, swelled the ranks of the army of 
the Lord of Hosts. 

The plain of Hamadan was covered with tents, the 
streets were filled with passing troops, the bazaars loaded 
with military stores; long caravans of camels laden with 
supplies every day arrived from the neighbouring towns; 
each instant some high-capped Tartar with despatches®® 
rushed into the city and galloped his steed up the steep of 
the citadel. The clang of arms, the prance of horses, the 
flourish of warlike music, resounded from all quarters. 
The business and the treasure of the world seemed, as it 
were in an instant, to have become concentrated in Hamadan. 
Every man had some great object; gold glittered in every 
hand. All great impulses were stirring; all the causes of 
human energy were in lively action. Every eye sparkled, 
every foot trod firm and fast. Each man acted as if the 
universal fate depended upon his exertions ; as if the uni¬ 
versal will sympathised with his particular desire. A vast 
population influenced by a high degree of excitement is the 
most sublime of spectacles. 

The commander of the h'^aithful raised the standard of 
the Prophet on the banks of the Tigris. It was the secret 
intelligence of this intended event that had recalled Alroy 
Gu suddenly from Persia. The latent enthusiasm of the 


122 


ALEOY. 


Moslemiii was excited by the rare and mystic ceremony, 
and its effects were anticipated by previous and judicious 
preparations. The Seljuks of Bagdad alone amounted to 
fifty thousand men ; the Sultan of Syria contributed the 
warriors who had conquered the Arabian princes of Da¬ 
mascus and Aleppo; while the ancient provinces of Asia 
Minor, which formed the rich and powerful kingdom of 
Seljukian Bourn, poured forth a myriad of that matchless 
cavalry, which had so often baffled the armies of the 
Ca3sars. Never had so imposing a force been collected on 
the banks of the Tigris since the reign of Haroun Alras- 
chid. Each day some warlike Atabek, at the head of his 
armed train, poured into the capital of the caliphs,®* or 
pitched his pavilion on the banks of the river; each day 
the proud emir of some remote principality astonished or 
affrighted the luxurious Babylonians by the strange or 
uncouth warriors that had gathered round his standard in 
the deserts of Arabia, or on the shores of the Euxine. For 
the space of twenty miles, the banks of the river were, on 
either side, far as the eye could reach, covered with the 
variegated pavilions, the glittering standards, the flowing- 
streamers and twinkling pennons of the mighty host, of 
which Malek, the Grand Sultan of the Seljuks, and Go¬ 
vernor of the Caliph’s palace, was chief commander. 

Such was the power assembled on the plains of Asia to 
arrest the progress of the Hebrew Prince, and to prevent 
the conquest of the memorable land promised to the faith 
of his fathers, and forfeited by their infldelity. Before the 
walls of Hamadan, Alroy reviewed the army of Israel, 
sixty thousand heavy-armed footmen, thirty thousand 
archers and light troops, and twenty thousand cavalry. 
Besides these, there had been formed a body of ten 
thousand picked horsemen, styled the ‘ Sacred Guard,’ all 
of whom had served in the Persian campaign. In their 
centre, shrouded in a case of wrought gold, studded with 
carbuncles, and carried on a lusty lance of cedar, a 
giant, for the height of Elnebar exceeded that of common 
men by three feet, bore the sceptre of Solomon. The 


. ALROY. 


123 


Sacred Guard was commanded by Asriel, tlie brother of 
Abner. 

The army was formed into three divisions. All marched 
in solemn order before the throne of Alroy, raised upon the 
ramparts, and drooped their standards and lances as 
they passed their heroic leader. Bostenay, and Miriam, 
and the whole population of the city witnessed the in¬ 
spiring spectacle from the walls. That same eve, Scherirah, 
at the head of forty thousand men, pushed on towards 
Bagdad, by Kermanshah ; and Jabaster, who commanded 
in his holy robes, and who had vowed not to lay aside his 
sword until the rebuilding of the temple, conducted his 
division over the victorious plain of Nehaueud. The}^ 
were to concentrate at the pass of Kerrund, which con¬ 
ducted into the province of Bagdad, and await the arrival 
of the king. 

At the dawn of day, the royal division and the Sacred 
Guard, the whole under the command of Asriel, quitted the 
capital. Alroy still lingered, and for some hours the warriors 
of his staff might have been observed lounging about the 
citadel, or practising their skill in throwing the jerreed as 
they exercised their impatient chargers before the gates. 

The king was with the lady Miriam, walking in the 
garden of their uncle. One arm was wound round her 
delicate waist, and with the other he clasped her soft and 
graceful hand. The heavy tears burst from her downcast 
eyes, and stole along her pale and pensive cheek. They 
walked in silence, the brother and the sister, before the 
])urity of whose surpassing love even ambition vanished. 
He opened the lattice gate. They entered into the valley 
small and green; before them was the marble fountain 
with its columns and cupola, and in the distance the 
charger of Alroy and his single attendant. 

They stopped, and Alroy gathered flowers, and placed 
ihem in the hair of Miriam. He would have softened the 
bitterness of parting with a smile. Gently he relaxed his 
embracing arm, almost insensibly he dropped her quiver¬ 
ing hand. 


124 


ALKOY. 


‘ Sister of my soul,’ he whispered, ‘ when we last parted 
liere, I was a fugitive, and now I quit you a conqueror/ 
She turned, she threw herself upon his neck, and buried 
her face in his breast. 

‘ My Miriam, we shall meet at Bagdad.’ 

He beckoned to her distant maidens ; they advanced, ho 
delivered Miriam into their arms. He pressed her hand 
to his lips, and, rushing to his horse, mounted and dis¬ 
appeared. 


CHAPTER XII. 

A BODY of irregular cavalry feebly defended the pass of 
Kerrund. It was carried, with slight loss, by the vanguard 
of Scherirah, and the fugitives prepared the host of the 
caliph for the approach of the Hebrew army. 

Upon the plain of the Tigris the enemy formed into 
battle array. The centre was commanded by Malek, the 
Grand Sultan of the Seljuks himself, the right wing, headed 
by the Sultan of Syria, was protected by the river ; and the 
left, under the Sultan of Roum, was posted upon the ad¬ 
vantageous position of some irregular and rising ground. 
Thus proud in the number, valour, discipline, and dispo¬ 
sition of his forces, Malek awaited the conqueror of Persia. 

The glittering columns of the Hebrews might even now 
be perceived defiling from the mountains, and forming at 
the extremity of the plain. Before nightfall the camp of the 
invaders was pitched within hearing of that of Malek. The 
moving lights in the respective tents might plainly be dis¬ 
tinguished ; and ever and anon the flourish of hostile music 
fell with an ominous sound upon the ears of the opposed 
foemen. A few miles only separated those mighty hosts. 
Upon to-morrow depended, perhaps, the fortunes of ages. 
How awful is the eve of battle ! 

Alroy, attended by a few chieftains, personally visited 
the tents of the soldiery, promising them on the morrow a 
triumph, before which the victories of Nehauend and Xisha- 



ALHOY. 


125 


bur would sink into insignificance. Tlieir fiery and excited 
visages proved at once their courage and their faith. The 
sceptre of Solomon was paraded throughout the camp in 
solemn procession. On the summit of a huge tumulus, per¬ 
haps the sepulchre of some classic hero, Esther, the pro¬ 
phetess, surrounded b}’’ the chief zealots of the host, poured 
forth her exciting inspirations. It was a grand picture, that 
beautiful wild girl, the groups of stern devoted warriors, 
the red flame of the watch-fires mixing with the silver 
shadows of the moon as they illumined the variegated tur¬ 
bans and gleaming armour of her votaries! 

In the pavilion of Alroy, Jabaster consulted with his 
pupil on the conduct of the morrow. 

‘This is a different scene from the cavern of the Cau¬ 
casus,’ said Alroy, as the high priest rose to retire. 

‘ It has one great resemblance, sire; the God of our 
fathers is with us.’ 

‘ Ay! the Lord of Hosts. Moses was a great man. There 
is no career except conquest.’ 

‘ You muse.’ 

‘ Of the past. The present is j)repared. Too much thought 
will mar it.’ 

‘ The past is for wisdom, the present for action, but for 
joy the future. The feeliug that the building of the temple 
is at hand, that the Lord’s anointed will once again live in 
the house of David, absorbs my spirit; and, when I muse 
over our coming glory, in my fond ecstacy I almost lose 
the gravity that doth beseem my sacred office.’ 

* Jerusalem; I have seen it. How many hours to 
dawn ? ’ 

‘ Some three.’ 

‘ ’Tis strange I could sleep. I remember, on the eve of 
battle I was ever anxious. How is this, Jabaster ? ’ 

‘ Your faith, sire, is profound.’ 

‘ Yes, I have no fear. My destiny is not complete. 
Good night, Jabaster. See, Asriel, valiant priest. Pharez I ’ 

‘ My lord! ’ 

* Kcuse me at the second vratch. Good night, lx)y.’ 


12^ 


.ALKOY. 


‘ Good niglit, my lord.’ 

‘ Pharez! Be sure you rouse me afc tlie second watch. 
Think you it wants three hours to dawn ? ’ 

‘About three hours, my lord.’ 

‘ Well! at the second watch, remember; good night.’ 


CHAPTER XIII. 

‘ It is the second watch, my lord.’ 

‘ So soon! Have I slept ? I feel fresh as an eagle. 
Call Scherirah, boy.’ 

‘ ’Tis strange I never dream now. Before my flight my 
sleep was ever troubled. Say what they like, man is 
made for action. My life is now harmonious, and sleep has 
now become what nature willed it, a solace, not a contest. 
Before, it was a struggle of dark passions and bright 
dreams, in whose creative fancy and fair vision my soul 
sought refuge from the dreary bale of daily reality. 

‘ I will withdraw the curtains of my tent. O most 
majestic vision ! And have I raised this host! Over the 
wide plain, far as my eye can range, their snowy tents 
studding the purple landscape, embattled legions gather 
round their flags to struggle for my fate. It is the agony 
of Asia. 

‘ A year ago, upon this very spot, I laid me down to die, 
an unknown thing, or known and recognised only to be 
despised, and now the sultans of the world come forth to 
meet me. I have no fear. My destiny is not complete; 
And whither tends it? Let that power decide which 
hitherto has fashioned all my course. 

‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem! ever harping on Jerusalem. With 
all his lore, he is a narrow-minded zealot whose dreaminf>’ 
memory would fondly make a future like the past. 0 Bag¬ 
dad, Bagdad, wdthin thy glittering halls, there is a charm 
worth all his Cabala 1 

‘ Hah 1 Scherirah I The dawn is near at hand; the 



ALROY. 


127 


stars still shining. The air is very pleasant. To-morrow 
will be a great day, Scherirah, for Israel and for you. 
You lead the attack. A moment in my tent, my brave 
Scherirah! ’ 


CHAPTER XIY. 

The dawn broke ; a strong column of the Hebrews, com¬ 
manded by Scherirah, poured down upon the centre of the 
army of the caliph. Another column, commanded by 
Jabaster, attacked the left wing, headed by the Sultan ol 
Roum. Ho sooner had Alroy perceived that the onset of 
Scherirah had succeeded in penetrating the centre of the 
Turks, than he placed himself at the head of the Sacred 
Guard, and by an irresistible charge completed their dis¬ 
order and confusion. The division of the Sultan of Syria, 
and a great part of the centre, were entirely routed and 
driven into the river, and the remainder of the division of 
Malek was effectually separated from his left wing. 

But while to Alroy the victory seemed already decided, a 
far different fate awaited the division of Jabaster. The 
Sultan of Roum, posted in an extremely advantageous 
position, and commanding troops accustomed to the disci¬ 
pline of the Romans of Constantinople, received the onset of 
Jabaster without yielding, and not only repelled his at¬ 
tack, but finally made a charge which completely disordered 
and dispersed the column of the. Hebrews. In vain 
Jabaster endeavoured to rally his troops, in vain he per¬ 
formed prodigies of valour, in vain he himself struck down 
the standard-bearer of the sultan, and once even pene¬ 
trated to the pavilion of the monarch. His division was 
fairly routed. The eagerness of the Sultan of Roum to 
effect the annihilation of his antagonists prevented him 
from observing the forlorn condition of the Turkish centre. 
Had he, after routing the division of Jabaster, only attacked 
Alroy in the rear, the fortune of the day might have been 
widely different. As it was, the eagle eye of Alroy soon 



128 


ALKOY. 


detected liis inadvertence, and profited by bis indiscretion. 
Leaving Ithamar to keep tbe centre in check, he charged 
the Sultan of Roum with the Sacred Guard, and afforded 
Jabaster an opportunity of rallying some part of his forces. 
The Sultan of Roum perceiving that the day was lost by the 
ill-conduct of his colleagues, withdrew his troops, retreated in 
haste, but in good order to Bagdad, carried off the caliph, 
his harem, and some of his treasure, and effected his escape 
into Syria. In the meantime the discomfiture of the remain¬ 
ing Turkish army was complete. The Tigris was dyed with 
their blood, and the towns through which the river flowed 
were apprised of the triumph of Alroy by the floating 
corpses of his enemies. Thirty thousand Turks were 
slain in battle : among them the Sultans of Bagdad and 
Syna, and a vast number of atabeks, emirs, and chieftains. 
A whole division, finding themselves surrounded, surren¬ 
dered on terms, and delivered up their arms. The camps 
and treasures of the three sultans were alike captured, and 
the troops that escaped so completely dispersed, that they 
did not attempt to rally, but, disbanded and desperate, 
prowled over and plundered the adjoining provinces. The 
loss of the division of Jabaster was also severe, but the rest 
of the army suffered little. Alroy himself was slightly 
wounded. The battle lasted barely three hours. Its 
results were immense. David Alroy was now master of the 
East. 


CHARTER XV. 

The plain was covered with the corpses of men and horses, 
arms and standards, and prostrate tents. Returning from 
the pursuit of the Sultan of Roum, Alroy ordered the trum¬ 
pets to sound to arms, and, covered with gore and dust, 
dismounted from his charger, and stood before the pavilion 
of Malek, leaning on his bloody scimetar, and surrounded 
by his victorious generals. 

‘Ah, Jabaster! ’ said the conqueror, giving his hand to thp 



ALROY. 


129 


pontiff, ‘ ’twas well your troops had such a leader. No one 
but you could have rallied them. You must drill your lads 
a little before they again meet the Cappadocian cavalry. 
Brave Scherirah, we shall not forget our charge. Asriel, 
tell the guard, from me, that the victory of the Tigris was 
owiug to their scimetars. Ithamar, what are our freshest 
troops ? ’ 

‘ The legion of Aderbijan, sire.’ 

‘ How strong can they muster ? ’ 

‘ It counts twelve thousand men: we might collect two- 
thirds.’ 

‘ Valiant Ithamar, take the Aderbijans and a division of 
the guards, push on towards Bagdad, and summon the city. 
If his sultanship of Bourn offer battle, take up a position, 
and he shall quickly have his desire. For the present, after 
these hasty marches and sharp fighting, the troops must 
rest. I guess he will not tarry. Summon the city, and say 
that if any resistance be offered, I will make it as desolate 
as old Babylon. Treat with no armed force. Where is the 
soldier that saved me a cracked skull; liis name Benaiah ? ’ 

‘I wait your bidding, sire.’ 

‘ You’re a captain. Join the division of Ithamar, and win 
fresh laurels ere we meet again. Gentle Asriel, let your 
brother know our fortune.’ 

‘ Sire, several Tartars have already been despatched to 
Hamadan.’ 

‘ ’Tis w^ell. Send another "with these tablets to the Lady 
Miriam. Despatch the pavilion of Malek as a trophy for 
the town. Elnebar, Goliath of the Hebrews, you bore our 
sacred standard like a hero ! How fares the prophetess ? 
I saw her chai’ging in our ranks, waving a sabre with her 
snowy arm, her long, dark hair streaming like a storm, from 
which her eyes flashed lightning.’ 

‘ The king bleeds,’ said Jabaster. 

‘ Slightly. It will do me service. I am somewhat feverish. 
A kingdom for a draught of w^ater! And now for our 
wounded friends. Asriel, do you marshal the camp. It 
is the Sabbath eve.^^^ Time presses.’ 

K 


180 


ALEOY. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The dead were plundered, and thrown into the river, the 
encampment of the Hebrews completed. Alroy, with his 
principal ofScers, visited the wounded, and praised the 
valiant. The bustle which always succeeds a victory was 
increased in the present instance by the anxiety of the army 
to observe with grateful strictness the impending Sabbath. 

When the sun set, the Sabbath was to commence. The 
undulating horizon rendered it difficult to ascertain the pre¬ 
cise moment of his fall. The crimson orb sunk behind the 
purple mountains, the sky was flushed with a rich and rosy 
glow. Then might be perceived the zealots, proud in their 
Talmudical lore, holding a skein of white silk in their hands, 
and announcing the approach of the Sabbath by their obser¬ 
vation of its shifting tints. While the skein was yet golden, 
the forge of the armourer still sounded, the Are of the cook 
still blazed, still the cavalry led their steeds to the river, 
and still the busy footmen braced up their tents, and ham¬ 
mered at their palisades. The skein of silk became rosy, 
the armourer worked with renewed energy, the cook pufied 
with increased zeal, the horsemen scampered from the river, 
the footmen cast an anxious glance at the fading twilight. 

The skein of silk became blue; a dim, dull, sepulchral, 
leaden tinge fell over its purity. The hum of gnats arose, 
the bat flew in circling whirls over the tents, horns sounded 
from all quarters, the sun had set, the Sabbath had com¬ 
menced. The forge was mute, the fire extinguished, the 
prance of horses and the bustle of men in a moment ceased. 
A deep, a sudden, an all-pervading stillness dropped over 
that mighty host. It Avas night; the sacred lamp of the 
Sabbath sparkled in every tent of the camp, Avhich vied in 
silence and in brilliancy with the mute and glowing heavens. 

Morn came ; the warriors assembled around the altar and 
tho sacrifice. The high priest and his attendant Levites 


ALEOY. 


131 


proclaimed the unity and the omnipotence of the God of 
Israel, and the sympathetic responses of his conquering and 
chosen people re-echoed over the plain. They retired again 
to their tents, to listen to the expounding of the law; even 
the distance of a Sabbath walk was not to exceed that space 
which lies between Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives. 
This was the distance between the temple and the tabernacle ; 
it had been nicely measured, and every Hebrew who ventured 
forth from the camp this day might be observed counting 
the steps of a Sabbath-day’s journey. At length the sun 
again set, and on a sudden fires blazed, voices sounded, men 
stirred, in the same enchanted and instantaneous manner 
that had characterised the stillness of the preceding eve. 
Shouts of laughter, bursts of music, announced the festivity 
of the coming night; supplies poured in from all the 
neighbouring villages, and soon the pious conquerors com¬ 
memorated their late triumph in a round of banqueting. 

On the morrow, a Tartar arrived from Ithamar, informing 
Alroy that the Sultan of Roum had retreated into Syria, 
that Bagdad was undefended, but that he had acceded to 
the request of the inhabitants that a deputation should wait 
upon Alroy before the troops entered the city, and had 
granted a safe conduct for their passage. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

On the morrow, messengers announced the approach of 
the deputation. All the troops wero under arms. Alroy 
directed that the ^suppliants should be conducted through 
the whole camp before they arrived at the royal pavilion, 
on each side of which the Sacred Guard was mustered in 
array. The curtains of his tent withdrawn, displayed the 
conqueror himself, seated on a sumptuous divan. On his 
right hand stood Jabaster in his priestly robes, on his left 
Scherirah. Behind him, the giant Elnebar supported the 
sacred sceptre. A crowd of chieftains was ranged on each 
side of the pavihon. 



ALROY. 


i;^2 


Cymbals sounded, muffled kettle-drums, and the faint 
flourish of trumpets; the commencement of the procession 
might be detected in the long perspective of the tented 
avenue. First came a company of beauteous youths, walking 
two by two, and strewing flowers, then a band of musicians 
in flowing robes of cloth of gold, plaintively sounding their 
silver trumpets. After these followed slaves of all climes, 
bearing a tribute of the most rare and costly productions of 
their countries: Negroes with tusks and teeth of the ele¬ 
phant, plumes of ostrich feathers, and caskets of gold dust; 
Syrians with rich armour; Persians with vases of atar-gul, 
and Indians with panniers of pearls of Ormuz, and soft 
shawls of Cashmere. Encircled by his children, each of 
whom held alternately a white or fawn-coloured gazelle, an 
Arab, clothed in his blue bornouz, led by a thick cord of 
crimson silk a tall and tawny giraffe. Fifty stout men suc¬ 
ceeded two by two, carrying in company a silver shield 
laden with gold coin, or chased goblets studded with gems. 

The clash of cymbals announced the presence of the robes 
of honour,®^ culled from the wardrobe of the commander of 
the Faithful: the silk of Aleppo and the brocade of Damas¬ 
cus, lined with the furs of the sable and the ermine, down 
from the breast of the swan, and the skins of white foxes. 

After these followed two grey dromedaries, with furniture 
of silver, and many caparisoned horses, each led by a 
groom in rich attire. The last of these was a snow-white 
steed, upon whose front was the likeness of a ruby star, a 
courser of the sacred stud of Solomon, and crossed only by 
the descendants of the Prophet. 

The muffled kettle-drums heralded the company of black 
eunuchs, with their scarlet vests and ivory battle-axes. 
They surrounded, and shrouded from the vulgar gaze, four¬ 
teen beautiful Circassian girls, whose brilliant visages and 
perfect forms were otherwise concealed by their long veils 
and ample drapery. 

The gorgeous procession, as they approached the con¬ 
queror, bowed humbly to Alroy, and formed in order on 
each side of the broad avenue. The deputation appeared ; 


ALIiOY. 


133 


tu'elve of tlie principal citizens of Bagdad, with folded arms, 
and downcast eyes, and disordered raiment. Meekly and 
mutely each touched the earth with his hand, and kissed it 
in token of submission, and then, moving aside, made way 
for the chief envoy and orator of the company, Honain ! 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Humbly, but gracefully, the physician of the caliph bowed 
before the conqueror of the East. His appearance and de¬ 
meanour afforded a contrast to the aspect of his brother 
envoys ; not less calm or contented his countenance, not 
less sumptuous or studied his attire, than when he first res¬ 
cued Alroy in the Bazaar of Bagdad from the gripe of tho 
false Abdallah. 

He spoke, and every sound was hushed before the music 
of his voice. 

‘ Conqueror of the world, that destiny with whieh it is in 
vain to struggle, has placed our lives and fortunes in your 
power. Your slaves offer for your approbation specimens 
of their riches ; not as tribute, for all is yours ; but to show 
you the j)roducts of security and peace, and to induce you 
to believe that mercy may be a policy as profitable to the 
conqueror as to the conquered ; that it may be better to 
preserve than to destroy; and Aviser to enjoy than to ex¬ 
tirpate. 

‘ Fate ordained that we should be born the slaves of the 
caliph; that same fate has delivered his sceptre into your 
hands. We offer you the same devotion that we yielded to 
him, and Ave entreat the same protection which he granted 
to us. 

‘Whatever may be your decision, aa^c must boAV to your 
decree Avith the humility that recognises superior force. 
Yet Ave are not Avithout hope. We cannot forget that it is 
our good fortune not to be addressing a barbarous chieftain, 
uiiable to sympathise with the claims of civilisation, the 



]U 


Aiv.oy. 


creations of art, and the finer impulses of humanity. "STo 
acknowledge your irresistible power, but Yv"e dare to hope 
everything from a prince whose genius all acknowledge and 
admire, who has spared some portion of his youth from the 
cares of government and the pursuits of arms to the enno¬ 
bling claims of learning, whose morality has been moulded 
by a pure and sublime faith, and who draws his lineage 
from a sacred and celebrated race, the unrivalled antiquity 
of which even the Prophet acknowledges.’ 

He ceased: a buzz of approbation sounded throughout 
the pavilion, which was hushed instantly as the lips of the 
conqueror moved. 

* Noble emir,’ replied Alroy, ‘ return to Bagdad, and tell 
your fellow-subjects that the King of Israel grants protec¬ 
tion to their persons, and security to their property.’ 

‘And for their faith?’ enquired the envoy, in a lower 
voice. 

‘ Toleration,’ replied Alroy, turning to Jabaster. 

‘ Until further regulations,’ added the high priest. 

‘ Emir,’ said Alroy, ‘ the person of the caliph will be re¬ 
spected.’ 

‘Mayit please your highness,’ replied Honain, ‘the Sul¬ 
tan of Roum has retired with our late ruler.’ 

‘ And his harem ?’ 

‘ And his harem.’ 

‘ It was needless. We war not with women.* 

‘ Men, as well as women, must acknowledge the gi’acious 
mercy of your highness.’ 

‘Benomi,’ said Alroy, addressing himself to a young oflS.- 
cer of the guaini, ‘ command the guard of honour that will 
attend this noble emir on his return. We soldiers deal 
only in iron, sir, and cannot vie with the magnificence of 
Bagdad, yet wear this dagger for the donor’s sake and 
Alroy held out to Honain a poniard flaming with gems. 

The Envoy of Bagdad advanced, took the dagger, pressed 
it to his lips, and placed it in his vest.*^'* 

‘ Scherirah,’ continued Alroy, ‘ this noble emir is your 
charge. See that a choice pavilion of the host be for his 


ALKOY. 


135 


use, and that his train complain not of the rough customs 
of our camp.’ 

‘ May it please your highness,’ replied Honain, ‘ I have 
fulfilled my office, and, with your gracious permission, would 
at once return. I have business only less urgent than the 
present, because it concerns myself.’ 

‘ As you will, noble emir. Benomi, to your post. Fare¬ 
well, sir.’ 

The deputation advanced, bowed, and retired. Alroy 
turned to Jabaster. 

‘ ISTo common person that, Jabaster ?’ 

‘ A very gracious Turk, sire.’ 

‘ Think you he is a Turk?’ 

‘ By his dress.’ 

‘ It may be so. Asriel, break up the camp. We’ll march 
at once to Bagdad.’ 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The chiefs dispersed to make the necessary arrangements 
for the march. The news that the army was immediately 
to advance to Bagdad soon circulated throughout the camp, 
and excited the most lively enthusiasm. Every hand was 
at work, striking the tents, preparing the arms and horses. 
Alroy retired to his pavilion. The curtains were drawn. 
He was alone, and plunged in profound meditation. 
‘Alroy!’ a voice sounded. 

He started, and looked up. Before him stood Esther the 
prophetess. 

‘ Esther I is it thou ?’ 

‘ Alroy! enter not into Babylon.’ 

‘ Indeed.’ 

‘ As I Hve, the Lord hath spoken it. Enter not into 
Babylon.’ 

‘ Hot enjoy my fairest conquest, maiden ?’ 

‘ Enter not into Babylon.’ 

‘ What affrights thee ?’ 



13G 


ALRuY. 


‘ Enter not into Babylon.’ 

‘ I shall surely change the fortunes of my life without a 
cause! ’ 

‘ The Lord hath spoken. Is not that a cause ?’ 

‘ I am the Lord’s anointed. His warning has not reached 
me.’ 

‘ How it reaches thee. Doth the king despise the pro¬ 
phetess of the Lord ? It is the sin of Ahab.’ 

‘ Despise thee ! despise the mouth that is the herald of my 
victories ! ’Twere rank blasphemy. Prophecy triumph, 
Esther, and Alroy will never doubt thy inspiration.’ 

‘ He doubts it now. I see he doubts it now. 0 my king, 
I say again, enter not into Babylon.’ 

‘ Beauteous maiden, those eyes flash lightning. Who can 
behold their "wild and liquid glance, and doubt that Esther 
is inspired ! Be calm, sweet girl, some dream disturbs thy 
fancy.’ 

‘Alroy, Alroy, enter not into Babylon !’ 

‘ I have no fear, I bear a charmed life.’ 

‘ Ah me ! he Avill not listen. All is lost!’ 

* All is gained, my beautiful.’ 

‘ I would we were upon the Holy !Mount, and gazing on 
the stars of sacred Zion.’ 

‘ Esther,’ said Alroy, advancing, and gently taking her 
hand, ‘ the capital of the East will soon unfold its marvels 
to thy sight. Prepare thyself for wonders. Girl, we are no 
longer in the desert. Eorget thy fitful fancies. Come, 
choose a husband from my generals, child, and I will give 
a kingdom for thy dower. I would gladly see a crown 
upon that imperial brow. It well deserves one.’ 

The prophetess turned her dark eyes full upon Alroy. 
AVhat passed in her mind was neither evident nor expressed. 
She gazed intently upon the calm and inscrutable counte¬ 
nance of the conqueror, slie flung away his hand, and 
rushed out of the pavilion. 


PART THE EIGH'I'H. 


CHAPTfJR I. 

The waving of banners, the flonrisli of trumpets, the 
neighing of steeds, and the glitter of spears ! On the dis¬ 
tant horizon they gleam like the morning, when the gloom 
of the night shivers bright into day. 

Hark ! the tramp of the foemen, like the tide of the 
ocean, flows onward and onward, and conquers the shore, 
l^'rom the brow of the mountain, like the rush of a river, 
the column defiling melts into the plain. 

Warriors of Judah ! holy men that battle for the Lord ! 
fidie land wherein your fathers wept, and touched their 
plaintive psaltery; the haughty city where your sires be¬ 
wailed their cold and distant hearth; your steeds ai’e 
ju’ancing on its plain, and you shall fill its palaces. Warriors 
of Judah ! holy men that battle for the Lord ! 

March, onward march, ye valiant tribes, the hour has 
come, the hour has come! All the promises of ages, all 
the signs of sacred sages, meet in this ravishing hour. 
Where is now the oppressor’s chariot, where your tyrant’s 
purple robe ? The horse and the rider are both overthrown, 
the horse and the rider are both overthrown ! 

Rise, Rachel, from thy wilderness, arise, and weep no 
more. No more thy lonely palm-tree’s shade need shroud 
thy secret sorrowing. The Lord hath heard the widow’s 
sigh, the Lord hath stilled the widow’s tear. Be comforted, 
be comforted, thy children live again ! 

Yes! yes ! upon the boundmg plain fleet Asriel glances 
like a star, and stout Scherirah shakes his spear by stem 
Jabaster’s scimetar. And He is there, tbo chosen one. 



138 


ALBOY. 


liymned by prophetic harps, Tvhose life is like the morning 
dew on Sion’s holy hill: the chosen one, the chosen one, 
that leads his race to victory; warriors of Judah ! holy 
men that battle for the Lord ! 

They come, they come, they come ! 

The ramparts of the city were crowded with the inhabit¬ 
ants, the river sparkled with ten thousand boats, the bazaars 
were shut, the streets lined with the populace, and the ter¬ 
race of every house covered with spectators. In the morn¬ 
ing, Ithamar had entered with his division and garrisoned 
the city. And now the vanguard of the Hebrew army, 
after having been long distinguished in the distance, ap¬ 
proached the walls. A large body of cavalry dashed for¬ 
ward at full speed from the main force. Upon a milk-white 
charger, and followed by a glittering train of warriors, 
amid the shouts of the vast multitude, Alroy galloped up 
to the gates. 

He was received by Ithamar and the members of the 
deputation, but Honain was not there. Accompanied by 
his staff and a strong detachment of the Sacred Guard, 
Alroy was conducted through the principal thoroughfares 
of the city, until he arrived at the chief entrance of the 
serail, or palace, of the caliph. The vast portal conducted 
him into a large quadrangular court, where he dismounted, 
and where he was welcomed by the captain of the eunuch 
guard. Accompanied by his principal generals and his im¬ 
mediate attendants, Alroy was then ushered through a suite 
of apartments which reminded him of his visit with Honain, 
until he arrived at the grand council-chamber of the 
caliphs. 

The conqueror threw himself upon the gorgeous divan 
of the commander of the Faithful. 

‘An easy seat after a long march,’ said Alroy, as he 
touched with his lips the coffee, which the chief of the 
eunuchs presented to him m a cup of transparent pink 
porcelain, studded with pearls.®® ‘ Ithamar, now for your 
report. What is the temper of the city ? Where is his 
sultanship of Roum ?’ 


ALROY. 


139 


‘ The city, sire, is calm, and I believe content. The 
sultan and the caliph are still hovering on the borders of 
the province.’ 

‘ So I supposed. Scherirah Tvill settle that. Let the 
troops be encamped without the walls, the garrison, ten 
thousand strong, must be changed monthly. Ithamar, you 
are governor of the city: Asriel commands the forces. 
Worthy Jabaster, draw up a report of the civil affairs of 
the capital. Your quarters are the College of the Dervishes. 
Brave Scherirah, I cannot afford you a long rest. In three 
days you rhust have crossed the river with your division. 
It will be quick work. I foresee that they will not fight. 
Meet me all here in council by to-morrow’s noon. Farewell.’ 

The chieftains retired, the high priest lingered. 

‘ Were it not an intrusion, sire, I would fain entreat a 
moment’s audience.’ 

‘ My own Jabaster, you have but to speak.’ 

‘ Sire, I would speak of Abidan, as valiant a warrior as 
■ any in the host. It grieves me much, that by some fatality, 
his services seem ever overlooked.’ 

‘ Abidan ! I know him well, a valiant man, but a dreamer, 
a dreamer.’ 

‘ A dreamer, sire ! Believe me, a true son of Israel, and 
one whose faith is deep.’ 

‘ Good Jabaster, we are all true sons of Israel. Yet let 
me have men about me who see no visions in a mid-day 
sun. We must beware of dreamers.’ 

‘ Dreams are the oracles of God.’ 

‘ When God sends them. Very true, Jabaster. But this 
Abidan, and the company with whom he consorts, are filled 
with high-flown notions, caught from old traditions, which, 
if acted on, would render government impracticable, in a 
word, they are dangerous men.’ 

‘ The very flower of Israel! Some one has poisoned your 
sacred ear against them.’ 

‘ Ho one, worthy Jabaster. I have no counsellor except 
yourself. They may be the flower of Israel, but they aro 
not the fruit. Good warriors, bad subjects: excellent 


uo 


ALKOY. 


iiieaiis, by wliicli we may accomplish greater ends. I’ll 
Lave no dreamers in authority. 1 must have practical men 
about me, practical men. See how Abner, Asriel, Itbamar, 
]\tedad, see how these conform to what surrounds them, 
yet invincible captains, invincible captains. But then they 
are practical men, Jabaster; they have eyes and use them 
They know the difference of times and seasons. But this 
Abidan, he has no other thought but the rebuilding of the 
temple: a narrow-souled bigot, who would sacrifice the 
essence to the form. The rising temple soon would fall again 
with such constructors. Why, sir, what think you, this 
same Abidan preached in the Camp against my entry into 
what the cpuaint fanatic chooses to call “Babylon,” because 
he had seen what he calls a vision.’ 

‘ There was a time your Majesty thought not so ill of 
visions.’ 

‘ Am I Abidan, sir ? Are other men to mould their con¬ 
duct or their thoughts by me ? In this world I stand alone, 
a being of a different order from yourselves, incomprehen¬ 
sible even to you. Let this matter cease. I’ll hear no more, 
and have heard too much. To-morrow at council.’ 

The high priest withdrew in silence. 

‘ He is gone ; at length I am alone. I cannot bear the 
presence of these men, except in action. Their words, even 
their looks, disturb the still creation of my brooding thought. 
I am once more alone, and loneliness hath been the cradle 
of my empire. How I do feel inspired. There needs no 
mummery now to work a marvel.’ 

‘ The sceptre of Solomon ! It may be so. What then ? 
Here’s now the sceptre of Alroy. What’s that without his 
mind ? The legend said that none should free our people 
but he who bore the sceptre of great Solomon. The legend 
knew that none could gain that sceptre, but with a mind 
to whose supreme volition the fortunes of the world would 
bow like fate. I gained it; I confronted the spectre nio- 
narchs in their sepulchre ; and the same hand that grasped 
their shadowy rule hath seized the diadem of the mighty 
caliphs by the broad rushing of their imperial river. 


ALIlOy. 


141 


^ Tlie world is mine : and shall I yield the jirize, the uni¬ 
versal and heroic prize, to realise the dull tradition of some 
dreaming priest, and consecrate a legend ? He conquered 
Asia, and he built the temple. Are these my annals ? 
Shall this quick blaze of empire sink to a glimmering and a 
twilight sway over some petty province, the decent patriarcli 
of a pastoral horde ? Is the Lord of hosts so slight a God, 
that we must place a barrier to His sovereignty, and fix the 
boundaries of Omnipotence between the Jordan and the 
Lebanon ? It is not thus written ; and were it so. I’ll pit 
my inspiration against‘the prescience of my ancestors. I 
also am a prophet, and Bagdad shall be my Sion. The 
daughter of the Voice ! Well, I am clearly summoned. 
I am the Lord’s servant, not Jabastor’s. Let me make His 
worship universal as His power; and where’s the priest shall 
dare impugn my faith, because His altars smoke on other 
hills than those of Judah ? 

‘ I must see Honain. That man has a great mind. Ho 
alone can comprehend my purpose. Universal empire must 
not be founded on sectarian prejudices and exclusive rights. 
Jabaster would massacre the Moslemin like Amalek; the 
Moslemin, the vast majority, and most valuable portion, of 
my subjects. He would depopulate my empire, that it 
might not be said that Ishmael shared the heritage of 
Israel. Fanatic ! I’ll send him to conquer Judah. Wo 
must conciliate. Something must be done to bind the con¬ 
quered to our conquering fortunes. That bold Sultan of 
Bourn: I wish Abner had opposed him. To run otf with 
the harem! I have half a mind to place myself at the 

head of the pursuing force, and-Passion and policy alike 

combine : and yet Honain is the man; I might send him on 
amission. Could we make terms? I detest treaties. My 
fancy flies from all other topics. I must see him. Could I 
but tell him all I think! This door, whither leads it? 
Hah ! mothinks I do remember yon glittering gallery ! Ho 
one in attendance. The discipline of our palace is some¬ 
what lax. My wari'iors are no courtiers. What an ad¬ 
mirable marshal of the palace Honain would make! Silenco 


142 


ALROY. 


everywhere. So! ’tis well. These saloons I have clearly 
jDassed through before. Could I but reach the private 
portal by the river side, unseen or undetected ! 'Tis not 
impossible. Here are many dresses. I will disguise my¬ 
self. Trusty scimetar, thou hast done thy duty, rest awhile. 
’Tis lucky I am beardless. I shall make a capital eunuch. 
So! a handsome robe. One dagger for a pinch, slippers 
powdered with pearls,®^' a caftan of cloth of gold, a Cash- 
mere girdle, and a pelisse of sables. One glance at the 
mirror. Good! I begin to look like the conqueror of the 
world! ’ 


CHAPTER II. 

It was twilight: a small and solitary boat, with a single 
rower, glided along the Tigris, and stopped at the archway 
of a house that descended into the river. It stopped, the 
boatman withdrew the curtains, and his single passenger 
disembarked, and ascended the stairs of the archway. 

The stranger reached the landing-place, and, unfastening 
a golden grate, proceeded along a gallery, and entered a 
beautiful saloon of white and green marble, opening into 
gardens. Ho one was in the apartment; the stranger 
threw himself upon a silver couch, placed at the side of a 
fountain that rose from the centre of the chamber and fell 
into a porphyry basin. A soft whisper roused the stranger 
from his reverie, a soft whisper, that faintly uttered the 
word ‘Honain.’ The stranger looked up, a figure, en¬ 
veloped in a veil, that touched the ground, advanced from 
the gardens. 

‘ Honain! ’ said the advancing figure, throwing off the 
veil. ‘ Honain ! Ah! the beautiful mute returned ! ’ 

A woman more lovely than the rosy morn, beheld an un¬ 
expected guest. They stood, the lady and the stranger, 
gazing on each other in silence. A man, with a light, 
entered the extremity of the hall. Carefully he closed the 



ALROY. 


143 


portal, slowly lie advanced, with a subdued step; he ap¬ 
proached the lady and the stranger. 

‘ Alroy! ’ said the astonished Honain, the light fell from 
his hand. 

‘ Alroy ! ’ exclaimed the lady, with a bewildered air : she 
turned pale, and leant against a column. 

‘ Daughter of the caliph ! ’ said the leader of Israel; and 
he advanced, and fell upon his knee, and stole her passive 
hand. '■ I am indeed that Alroy to whom destiny has deli¬ 
vered the empire of thy sire ; but the Princess Schirene can 
have nothing to fear from one who values above all his vic¬ 
tories this memorial of her goodwilland he took from his 
breast a rosary of pearls and emeralds, and, rising slowly, 
left it in her trembling hand. 

The princess turned and hid her face in her arm, which 
reclined against the column. 

‘ My kind Honain,’ said Akoy, ‘ you thought me forgetful 
of the past; you thought me ungrateful. My presence here 
proves that I am not so. I come to enquire all your wishes. 
I come to gratify and to fulhl them, if that be in my 
power.’ 

‘ Sire,’ replied Honain, who had recovered from the emo¬ 
tion in which he rarely indulged, and from the surprise 
which seldom entrapped him, ‘ Sire, my wishes are slight. 
You see before you the daughter of my master. An inter¬ 
view, for which I fear I shall not easily gain that lady’s 
pardon, has made you somewhat acquainted with her situa¬ 
tion and her sentiments. The Princess Schirene seized the 
opportunity of the late convulsions to escape from a mode 
of life long repugnant to all her feelings, and from a des¬ 
tiny at which she trembled. I was her only counsellor, and 
she uiay feel assured, a faithful, although perhaps an indis¬ 
creet one. The irresistible solicitation of the inhabitants 
that I should become their deputy to their conqueror, pre¬ 
vented us from escaping as we had intended. Since then, 
from the movement of the troops, I have deemed it more 
prudent that we should remain at present here, although I 
have circulated the intelligence of my departure. In the 


144 


ALROY. 


kiosk of my garden, tke princess is now a willing prisoner. 
At twilight she steals forth for the poor relaxation of my 
society, to listen to the intelligence which I acquire during 
the day in disguise. The history, sire, is short and simple. 
We are in your power : but instead of deprecating your in¬ 
terference, I now solicit your protection.’ 

‘Dear Honain, ’tis needless. The Princess Schirene has 
only to express a wish that it may be fulfilled. I came to 
speak with you on weighty matters, Honain, but I retire, 
for I am an intruder now. To-morrow, if it jDlease you, at 
this hour, and in this disguise, I will again repair hither. 
In the meantime, this lady may perchance express to you 
her wishes, and you will bear them to me. If an escort to 
any country, if any palace or province for lier rule and resi¬ 
dence- But I will not offer to one who should com¬ 

mand. Lady! farewell. Pardon the past! To-morrow, good 
Honain! pr’ythee let us meet. Good even!’ 


CHAPTER HI. 

‘ The royal brow was clouded,’ said Ithamar to Asriel, as, 
departing from the council, they entered their magnificent 
barque. 

‘ With thought; he has so much upon his mind, ’tis 
wondrous how he bears himself.’ 

‘ I have seen him gay on the eve of battle, and livel}' 
though calm, with weightier matters than now oppress 
liim. His brow was clouded, but not, methinks, with 
ilionglit', one might rather say with temj)er. Mark you, 
how he rated Jabaster?’ 

‘Roundly! The stern priest writhed under it; and as 
lie signed the ordinance, shivered his reed in rage. I 
never saw a man more pale.’ 

‘ Or more silent. He looked like an embodied storm. I 
tell you what, Asriel, that stern priest loves not ns.’ 




ALKUY. 


145 


‘Have you just discovered that secret, TtLamar? We 
are not of his school. Nor, in good faith, is our ruler. I 
am glad to see the king is so staunch about Abidan. Were 
he in council he would support Jabaster.’ 

‘ Oh! his mere tool. What think you of Scherirah ? ’ 

‘I would not trust him. As long as there is fighting, he 
will meddle with nothing else; but, mark my words, 
Ithamar : in quiet times he will support the priest.’ 

‘ Medad will have a place in council. He is with us.’ 

‘ Heart and soul. I would your brother were here, Asriul: 
he alone could balance Jabaster. Alroy loves your brother 
like himself. Is it true that he marries the Lady Miriam? 

‘ So the king wishes. ’Ibvill be a fine match for Abner.’ 

‘ The world is all before us. I wonder who will be vice¬ 
roy of Syria.’ 

‘ When we conquer it. Not Scherirah. Mark my words, 
Ithamar: he never will have a government. You or I per¬ 
chance. For my own part, I would rather remain as I am.’ 

‘ Yours is a good jDOst; the best.’ 

‘AYith the command of the city. It should go with the 
guard.’ 

‘Well then help me in getting Syria, and you can ask 
for my command.’ 

‘Agreed. Jabaster will have it that, in a Hebrew 
monarchy, the chief priest is in fact the grand vizir.’ 

‘ Alroy will be his own minister.’ 

‘ I am not so sure of that. He may choose to command 
the Syrian expedition in person ; he must leave some head 
at Bagdad. Jabaster is no general.’ 

‘ Oh! none at all. Alroy will be glad to leave him at 
home. The Sultan of Eoum may not be always so 
merciful.’ 

‘ Hah ! hah ! that was an escape! ’ 

‘ By heavens ! I thought it was all over. You made a 
fine charge.’ 

‘I shall never forget it. I nearly ran over Jabaster.’ 

‘ Would that you had ! ’ 

L 


146 


ALEOY. 


CHAPTER IV. 

It is tEe tender twilight hour, when maidens in their 
lonely bower, sigh softer than the eve ! The languid rose 
her head upraises, and listens to the nightingale, while his 
wild and thrilling praises, from his trembling bosom gush : 
the languid rose her head upraises, and listens with a blush. 

In the clear and rosy air, sparkling with a single star, the 
sharp and spiry cypress-tree rises like a gloomy thought, 
amid the flow of revelry. A singing bird, a single star, a 
solemn tree, an odorous flower, are dangerous in the tender 
hour, when maidens in their twilight bower, sigh softer than 
the eve ! 

The daughter of the caliph comes forth to breathe the 
air: her lute her only company. She sits her down by a 
fountain’s side, and gazes on the waterfall. Her cheek 
reclines upon her arm, like fruit upon a graceful bough. 
Very pensive is the face of that bright and beauteous lady. 
She starts ; a warm voluptuous lip presses her soft and idle 
hand. It is her own gazelle. With his large and lustrous 
eyes, more eloquent than many a tongue, the fond attendant 
mutely asks the cause of all her thoughtfulness. 

‘ Ah! bright gazelle ! ah ! bright gazelle! ’ the princess 
cried, the princess cried; ‘thy lips are softer than the swan, 
thy lips are softer than the swan; but his breathed passion, 
when they pressed, my bright gazelle ! my bright gazelle ! ’ 

‘ Ah ! bright gazelle ! ah ! bright gazelle ! ’ the princess 
cried, the princess cried ; ‘ thine eyes are like the stars of 
night, thine eyes are like the stars of night; but his glanced 
passion when they gazed, my bright gazelle ! my bright 
gazelle! ’ 

She seized her lute, she wildly threw her Angers o’er its 
thrilling cords, and, gazing on the rosy sky, to borrow all 
its poetry, thus, thus she sang ; thus, thus she sang: r- 

1 . 

He rose in beauty like the morn 
That brightens in our Syrian skies ; 

Dark passion glittered in his eye, 

And Empire sparkled in his form 1 


ALEOY. 


ur 


2 . 

My soul! thou art the dusky earth, 

On which his sunlight fell; 

The dusky earth, that dim no longer, 

Now breathes with light, now beams Vv'iih lovol 

3 . 

He rose in beauty, like the morn 
That brightens in our Syrian skies ; 

Dark Passion glittered in his eye. 

And Empire sparkled in his form ! 

‘ Once more, once more ! All! sing that strain onco 
iiore ! ’ 

The princess started and looked round. Before her stood 
Alroy. She rose, she would have retired ; but, advancing, 
the conqueror stole her hand. 

‘Fair princess,’ said Alroy, ‘let it not be said that mj 
presence banished at once beauty and music.’ 

‘ Sire, I doubt not that Honain awaits you. Let mo 
summon him.’ 

‘ Lady, it is not with Honain that I would speak.’ 

He seated himself by her side. His countenance was 
jiale, his heart trembled. 

‘ This garden,’ at length he observed in a low voice, 
‘this garden, a brief, brief space has glided away since first 
I wandered within its beauteous limits, and yet those days 
seem like the distant memory of another life.’ 

‘ It is another life,’ said the princess. ‘ Ourselves, the 
world, all forms and usages, all feelings and all babits, verily 
they have changed, as if we had breathed within another 
sphere.’' 

‘ ’Tis a great change.’ 

‘ Since first you visited my bright kiosk. Pretty bauble! 
I pray it may be spared.’ 

‘ It is sacred, like yourself.’ 

‘ You are a courteous conqueror.’ 

‘ I am no conqueror, fair Schirene, but a slave more lowly 
than when I first bowed humbly in your presence.’ 

‘ And bore away a token not forgotten. Your rosary is 
here.’ 


US 


ALROY. 


‘ Let me claim it. It lias been my consolation in mucli 
peril, bcanteoLis lady. On the eve of battle I wound it 
round my heart.’ 

She held forth the rosary, and turned away her head. 
Her hand remained in his ; he pressed it to his lijis. His 
right arm retained her hand ; he wound the other round her 
Avaist, as he fell upon his knee. 

‘ 0 beautiful 1 0 more than beautiful! for thou to me art 
like a dream unbroken,’ exclaimed the young leader of 
Israel, ‘ let me, let me breathe my adoration. I offer thee 
not empire : I offer thee not Avealth; I offer thee not all the 
boundless gratification of magnificent fancy, these may be 
thine, but all these thou hast proved; but, if the passionate 
affections of a spirit which never has yielded to the poAver 
of Avoman or the might of man, if the deep devotion of the 
soul of Alroy, be deemed an oftering meet for the shrine of 
thy surpassing loveliness, I AA'orship thee, Schirene, I 
Avorship thee, I Avorship thee ! 

‘ Since I first gazed upon thee, since thy beauty first rose 
upon my presence like a star bright Avith my destiny, in the 
still sanctuary of my secret love, thy idol has ever rested. 
Then, then, I Avas a thing Avhose very touch thy creed might 
count a contumely. I have avenged the insults of long 
centuries in the best blood of Asia; I have returned, in 
glory and in pride, to claim my ancient sceptre; but sweeter 
far than vengeance, SAveeter far than the quick gathering of 
my sacred tribes, the rush of triumph and the blaze of 
empire, is this brief moment of adoring love, wherein I pour 
the passion of my life ! 

‘ 0 my soul, my life, my very being ! thou art silent, but 
thy silence is SAveeter than others’ speech. Yield, yield thee, 
dear Schirene, yield to thy suppliant! Thy faith, thy 
father’s faith, thy native customs, these, these shall be re¬ 
spected, beauteous lady ! Pharaoh’s daughter yielded her 
dusky beauty to my great ancestor. Thy face is like the 
bright inspiring day ! Let it not bo said that the daughter 
of the Nile shared Israel’s crown, the daughter of the Tigris 
spnincd our sceptre. I am not Solomon, but I am one that 


ALHOY. 


149 


vrore Selilrone the partner of my throne, would make liid 
glowing annals read like a wearisome and misty tale to our 
surpassing lustre! ’ 

He ceased, the princess turned her hitherto hidden 
countenance, and bowed it on his heart. ‘ 0 Alroy ! ’ she 
exclaimed, ‘ I have no creed, no country, no life, hut thee ! ’ 


CHAPTER V. 

‘ The king is late to-day.’ 

‘ Is it true, Asriel, there is an express from Hamadan ? ’ 

‘ Of no moment, Ithamar. I had private letters from 
Ahner. All is quiet.’ 

‘ ’Tis much past the hour. When do you depart, Sche- 
rirali ? ’ 

‘ The troops are ready. I wait orders. This morning’s 
council will perchance decide.’ 

‘ This morning’s council is devoted to the settlement of 
the civil affairs of the capital,’ remarked Jahaster. 

‘ Indeed! ’ said Asriel. ‘ Is your report prepared, 
Jahaster ? ’ 

‘ ’Tis here,’ replied the high priest. ‘ The Hebrew legis¬ 
lator requires hut little musing to shape his order. He has 
a model which time cannot destroy, nor thought improve.’ 

Ithamar and Asriel exchanged significant glances. Sche- 
rirah looked solemn. There was a pause, which was broken 
by Asriel. 

* ’Tis a noble city, this Bagdad. I have not yet visited 
your quarters, Jahaster. You are well placed.’ 

‘ As it may be. I hope we shall not tarry here long. 
The great point is still not achieved.’ 

‘ How far is it to the holy city ? ’ enquired Scherirah. 

‘ A month’s march,’ replied Jahaster. 

‘ And when you get there ? ’ enquired Ithamar. 

‘You may fight with the Franks,’ replied Asriel. 

‘ Jahaster, how large is Jerusalem ? ’ enquired Ithamar. 



150 


.4LKOY. 


‘Is it true, as I have sometimes heard, that it is not bigger 
than the serail here, gardens and all ? ’ 

‘ Its glory hath departed,’ replied the high priest; ‘ the 
bricks have fallen, but we will rebuild with marble; and 
Sion, that is now without the Christian walls, shall yet 
sparkle, as in the olden time, with palaces and pavilions.’ 

A flourish of trumpets, the portals flew open, and Alroy 
entered, leaning on the arm of the envoy of Bagdad. 

‘ Valiant leaders,’ said Alroy to the astonished chieftains, 

‘ in this noble stranger, you see one like yourselves entrusted 
with my unbounded confidence. Jabaster, behold thy 
brother! ’ 

‘ Honain ! art thou Honain|? ’ exclaimed the pontiff start¬ 
ing from his seat. ‘ I have a thousand messengers after 
thee.’ With a countenance alternately paUid with surprise 
and burning with affection, Jabaster embraced his brother, 
and, overpowered with emotion, hid his face on his shoulder. 

‘ Sire,’ at length exclaimed the high priest in a low and 
tremulous voice, ‘ I must pray your pardon that for an instant 
in this character I have indulged in any other thoughts than 
those that may concern your welfare. ’Tis past; and you, 
who know all, will forgive me.’ 

‘All that respects Jabaster must concern my welfare. He 
is the pillar of my empire; ’ and holding forth his hand, 
Alroy placed the high priest on his right. ‘ Scherirah, 
you depart this eve.’ 

The rough captain bowed in silence. 

‘ What is this ? ’ continued Alroy, as Jabaster offered him 
a scroll. ‘Ah ! your report.’ “Order of the Tribes,” “Ser¬ 
vice of the Levites,” “Princes of the People,” “Elders of 
Israel! ” The day may come when this may be effected. 
At present, Jabaster, we must be moderate, and content 
ourselves with arrangements which may ensure that order 
shall be maintained, property respected, and justice ad¬ 
ministered. Is it true that a gang has rifled a mosque ? ’ 

‘ Sire ! of that I would speak. They are no plunderers, 
but men, perhaps too zealous, who have read and who have 
remembered that “ Ye shall utterly destroy all the places 


ALROY. 


151 


Tvliereiii the nations which ye shall possess, served their 
gods upon the high mountains, and upon the hill, and under 
every green tree. And ye shall overthrow their altars, 
and ”-’ 

‘ Jabaster, is this a synagogue ? Come I to a council of 
valiant statesmen or dreaming E/abbis? For a thousand 
years we have been quoting the laws we dared not practise. 
Is it with such aid that we captured hTishabur and crossed 
the Tigris ? Valiant, wise Jabaster, thou art worthy of 
better things, and capable of all. I entreat thee, urge such 
matters for the last time. Are these fellows in custody ? ’ 

‘ They were in custody. I have freed them.’ 

‘ Freed them ! Hang them ! Hang them on the most 
public grove. Is this the w^ay to make the Moslem a 
duteous subject ? Jabaster ! Israel honours thee ; and I, 
its chief, know that one more true, more valiant, or more 
learned, crowds not around our standard; but I see, the 
caverns of the Caucasus are not a school for empire.’ 

‘ Sire, I had humbly deemed the school for empire was 
the law of Moses.’ 

‘ Ay ! adapted to these times.’ 

‘ Can aught divine be changed ? ’ 

‘ Am I as tall as Adam ? If man, the crown, the rose of 
all this fair creation, the most divine of all divine inven¬ 
tions, if Time have altered even this choicest of all godlike 
works, why shall it spare a law made but to rule his con¬ 
duct ? Good Jabaster, we must establish the throne of Israel, 
that is my mission, and for the means, no matter how, or 
where. Asriel, what news of Medad ? ’ 

‘ All is quiet between the Tigris and Euphrates, It would 
be better to recall his division, which has been much 
harassed. I thought of relieving him by Abidan.’ 

‘ I think so, too. We may as well keep Abidan out of 
the city. If the truth were known. I’ll wager some of his 
company plundered the mosque. We must issue a procla¬ 
mation on that subject. My good Jabaster, we’ll talk over 
these matters alone. At present I w'ill leave you with your 
brother. Scherirah, sup with me to night; before you quit 
Asriel, come with mo to my cabinet.’ 



162 


ALKOT. 


CHAPTER VI. 

‘ I MUST see the king ! ’ 

‘ Holy priest, his highness has retired. It is impossible.’ 

‘I mnst see the king. Worthy Pharez, I take all peril 
on myself.’ 

‘ Indeed his highness’ orders are imperative. You cannot 
see him.’ 

‘ Knowest thou who I am ? ’ 

‘ One whom all pious Hebrews reverence.’ 

‘ I say I must see the king.’ 

‘ Indeed, indeed, holy Jabaster, it cannot be.’ 

‘ Shall Israel perish for a menial’s place ? Go to ; I icill 
see him.’ 

‘ Hay ! if you tvill, I’ll struggle for my dutj^’ 

‘ Touch not the Lord’s anointed. Hog, you shall suffer 
for this ! ’ 

So saying, Jabaster threw aside Pharez, and, with the 
attendant clinging to his robes, rushed into the royal 
chamber. 

‘ What is all this ? ’ exclaimed Alroy, starting from the 
divan. ‘ Jabaster ! Pharez, withdraw ! How now, is Bag¬ 
dad in insurrection ? ’ 

‘Worse, much worse, Israel soon will be.’ 

‘Ay!’ 

‘ My fatal brother has told me all, nor would I sleep, 
until I lifted up my voice to save thee.’ 

‘ Am I in danger ? ’ 

‘ In the wilderness, when the broad desert quivered 
beneath thy trembling feet, and the dark heavens poured 
down their burning torrents, thou wert less so. In that 
hour of death. One guarded thee, who never forgets his fond 
and faithful offspring, and now, when He has brought thee 
out of the house of bondage ; now, when thy fortunes, like 
a noble cedar, swell in the air and shadow all the land ; 
thou, the very leader of His people. His chosen one, for 
whom He hath worked such marvels, tliv heart is tinmed 


ALKOV. 


153 


from thy fatliers’ God, and hankers after Birange abomina¬ 
tions.’ 

Tlirough the broad arch that led into the gardens of the 
serail, the moonlight fell upon the tall figure and the up¬ 
raised arm of the priest; Alroy stood with folded arms at 
some distance, watching Jabaster as he spoke, with a calm 
but searching glance. Suddenly he advanced with a quick 
step, and, placing his hand upon Jabaster’s arm, said, in 
a low, enquiring tone, ‘You are speaking of this marriage?’ 

‘ Of that which ruined Solomon.’ 

‘ Listen to me, Jabaster,’ said Alroy, interrupting him, 
in a calm but peremptory tone. ‘ I cannot forget that I am 
speaking to my master, as well as to my friend. The Lord, 
who knoweth all things, hath deemed me worthy of His 
mission. My fitness for this high and holy office was not 
admitted without proof. A lineage, which none else could 
offer, mj^stic studies shared by few, a mind that dared en¬ 
counter all things, and a frame that could endure most, 
these were my claims. But no more of this. I have passed 
the great ordeal; the Lord of Hosts hath found me not 
unworthy of His charge; I have established His ancient 
people; His altars blaze with sacrifices; His priests are 
honoured, bear witness thou, Jabaster, His omnipotent unity 
is declared. What wouldst thou more ? ’ 

‘All!’ 

‘ Then Moses knew you well. It is a stiff-necked people.’ 

‘ Sire, bear with me. If I speak in heat, I speak in zeal. 
You ask me what I wish: my answer is, a national existence, 
which we have not. You ask me what I wish : my answer 
is, the Land of Promise. You ask me what I wish: my 
answer is, Jerusalem. You ask me what I wish: my 
answer is, the Temple, all we have forfeited, all we have 
yearned after, all for which we have fought, our beauteous 
(country, our holy creed, our simple manners, and our 
ancient customs.’ 

‘ Manners change with time and circumstances ; customs 
may be observed everywhere. The ephod on thy breast 
proves our faith ; and, for a country, is the Tigris less than 
Siloah, or the Euphrates inferior to the .Iordan ?’ 


154 


ALKOY. 


‘ Alas! alas! there was a glorious prime when Israel 
stood aloof from other nations, a fair and holy thing that 
God had hallowed. We were then a chosen family, a most 
peculiar people, set apart for God’s entire enjoyment. All 
about us was solemn, deep, and holy. We shunned the 
stranger as an unclean thing that must defile our solitary 
sanctity, and, keeping to ourselves and to our God, our 
lives flowed on in one great solemn tide of deep religion, 
making the meanest of our multitude feel greater than the 
kings of other lands. It was a glorious time : I thought it 
had returned ; but I awake from this, as other dreams.’ 

‘ We must leave off dreaming, good Jabaster, we must 
act. Were I, by any chance, to fall into one of those 
reveries, with which I have often lost the golden hours at 
Hamadan, or in our old cave, I should hear, some fine 
morning, his sultanship of Roum rattling at my gates.’ 
Alroy smiled as he spoke ; he would willingly have intro¬ 
duced a lighter tone into the dialogue, but the solemn coun¬ 
tenance of the priest was not sympathetic with his levity. 

‘ My heart is full, and yet I cannot speak : the memory 
of the past overpowers my thought. I had vainly deemed 
that my voice, inspired by the soul of truth, might yet pre¬ 
serve him ; and nov^ I stand here in his presence, silent and 
trembling, like a guilty thing. 0, my prince ! my pupil! ’ 
said the priest, advancing, falling on his knee, and seizing 
the robe of Alroy, ‘by thy sacred lineage; by the sweet 
memory of thy ardent youth, and our united studies; by 
all thy zealous thoughts, and.solemn musings, and glorious 
aspirations after fame ; by all thy sufferings, and by all thy 
triumphs, and chiefly by the name of that great God, who 
hath elected thee his favoured child ; by all the marvels of 
thy mighty mission, I do adjure thee ! Arise, Alroy, arise 
and rouse thyself. The lure that snared thy fathers may 
trap thee, this Dehlah may shear thy mystic locks. Spirits 
like thee act not by halves. Once fall out from the straight 
course before thee, and, though thou deemest ’tis but to 
saunter mid the summer trees, soon thou wilt find thyself 
in the dark depths of some infernal forest, where none may 
rescue thee! ’ 


ALKOY. 


155 


‘ "WTiat if I do inlierit tlie eager blood of my great ances¬ 
tor, at least I hold his sceptre. Shall anght of earthly 
power prevail against the supernatural sway of Heaven and 
Hades f ’ 

‘ Sire, sire, the legend that came from Sinai is full of 
high instruction. But shape thy conduct by its oracles, 
and all were well. It says our people can be established 
only by him who rules them with the rod of Solomon. 
Sire, when the Lord offered his pleasure to that mighty 
king, thou knowest his deep discretion. Biches and length 
of days, empire and vengeance, these were not the choice of 
one to whom all accidents were proffered. The legend bears 
an inward spirit, as well as an outward meaning. The 
capture of the prize was a wise test of thy imperial fitness. 
Thou hast his sceptre, but, without his wisdom, ’tis but a 
staff of cedar.’ 

‘ Hah ! Art thou there ? I am glad to see Jabaster 
})olitic. Hear me, my friend. What my feelings be unto 
this roya-1 lady, but little matters. Let them pass, and let 
us view this question by the light wherein you have placed 
it, the flame of policy and not of passion. I am no traitor 
to the God of Israel, in whose name I have conquered, and 
in Avhose name I shall rule ; but thou art a learned doctor, 
thou canst inform us. I have heard no mandate to yield 
my glorious empire for my meanest province. I am Lord 
of Asia, so would I have my long posterity. Our people 
are but a remnant, a feeble fraction of the teeming millions 
that own my sway. What I hold I can defend; but my 
children may not inherit the spirit of their sire. The Mos- 
lemin will recognise their rule with readier hearts, when 
they remember that a daughter of their caliphs gave them 
life. You see I too am politic, my good Jabaster !’ 

‘ The policy of the son of Kareah®^ : ’twas fatal. He pre¬ 
ferred Egypt to Judah, and he suffered. Sire, the Lord 
hath blessed Judah : it is His land. He would have it filled 
by His peculiar people, so that His worship might ever 
flourish. For this He has, by many curious rites and 
customs, marked us out from all other nations, so that we 
cannot, at the same time, mingle with them and yet be true 


150 


AI.EoV. 


to Him. We iiinsfc exis-t alone. To preserve Unit loneliness, 
is tlie great end and essence of our law. What have we to 
do with Bagdad, or its people, where every instant we must 
witness some violation of our statutes ? Can we pray with 
them ? Can we eat with them ? Alike in the highest 
duties, and the lowest occupations, of existence, we cannot 
mingle. From the altar of our God to our domestic hoards, 
Ave are alike separated from them. Sire, you may ho King 
of Bagdad, hut you cannot, at the same time, he a Joav.’ 

‘ I am Avhat I am. I Avorship the Lord of Hosts. Per¬ 
haps, in His mercy. He aauII accept the days of Nishahur 
and the Tigris, as a compensation for some slight relaxation 
in the ritual of the haker and the hath.’ 

‘ And mark my Avords : it Avas hy the ritual of the haker 
and the hath that Alroy rose, and Avithout it he Avill fall. 
The genius of the people, which he shared, raised him; 
and that genius has heen formed hy the law of Moses. 
Based on that laAV, he might indeed liaA^e handed doAvn an 
empire to liis long posterity; and now, though the tree of 
liis fortunes seems springing up hy the AA'ater-side, fed hy a 
thousand springs, and its branches coA^ered Avith dew, there 
is a gangrene in the sap, and to-morroAV he may shrink like 
a shrivelled gourd. Alas ! alas! for Israel! We have 
long fed on mallows; hut to lose the Auntage in the very 
day of fruition, ’tis A’ery hitter. Ah ! Avhen I raised thy 
exhausted form in the cavern of Genthesma, and the star 
of DaAud beamed brightly in the gloAving heaA^ens upon thy 
high fulfilment, Avho could have dreamed of a night like 
this ? Farewell, sire.’ 

‘ Stop, Jahaster ! earliest, dearest friend, pr’ythee, pr’y- 
thee stop! ’ 

The priest slowly turned, the prince hesitated. 

‘ Part not in anger, good Jahaster.’ 

‘ In sorrow, sire, only in sorroAv; hut deep and terrible.’ 

‘ Israel is Lord of Asia, my Jahaster. Why should ayo 
fear ? ’ 

‘ Solomon built Tadinor in the Avilderness, and his fleet 
brought gold from Ophir; and yet Alroy Avas horn a slaA’'e.’ 


ALKOY. 


157 


‘But did not die one. The siiltaos of the world have 
fallen before me. I have no fear. Nay, do not go. At 
least you wdll give some credence to the stars, my learned 
Cabalist. See, my planet shines as brightly as my fortunes.’ 
Alroy withdrew the curtain, and wdth Jabaster stepped out 
upon the terrace. A beautiful star glittered on high. As 
they gazed, its colour changed, and a blood-red meteor 
burst from its circle, and fell into space. The conqueror 
and the priest looked at each other at the same time. 
Their countenances were pale, enquiring, and agitated. 

‘ Sire,’ said Jabaster, ‘ march to Judah.’ 

‘ It portends war,’ rej^lied Alroy, endeavouring to re¬ 
cover himself. ‘ Perchance some troubles in Persia.’ 

‘ Troubles at home, no other. The danger is nigh. Look 
to thyself.’ 

A wild scream was heard in the gardens. It sounded 
thrice. 

‘What is this?’ exclaimed Alroy, really agitated. 
‘ Rouse the guard, Jabaster, search the gardens.’ 

‘ ’Tis useless and may do harm. It was a spirit that 
shrieked.’ 

‘ What said it ? ’ 

‘ Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin I ’ 


CHAPTER VII. 

‘ The old story, the priest against the king,’ said Honain 
to Alroy, when at his morrow’s interview, he had listened 
to the events of the preceding night. ‘ My pious brother 
wdshes to lead you back to the Theocracy, and is fearful 
that, if he prays at Bagdad instead of Sion, he may chance 
to become only the head of an inferior sect, instead of re¬ 
velling in the universal tithes of a whole nation. As for 
’the meteor, Scherirah must have crossed river about the 
same time, and the Sultan of Roum may explain the bloody 
portent. For the shriek, as I really have no ac(piaintanco 



158 


ALROY. 


with spirits, I must leave the miraculous communication to 
the favoured ears and initiated intelligences of your high¬ 
ness and my brother. It seems that it differed from “ the 
Daughter of the Voice ” in more respects than one, since it 
was not only extremely noisy, but, as it would appear, quite 
unintelligible except to the individual who had an interest 
in the interpretation, an ingenious one I confess. "When I 
enter upon my functions as your highness’s chamberlain, 
I will at least guarantee that your slumbers shall not be 
disturbed either by spirits or more unwelcome visitors.’ 

‘ Enter upon them at once, good Honain. How fares my 
Persian rose to-day, my sweet Schirene ? ’ 

‘ Feeding on your image in your absence. She spares no 
word to me, I do assure your Highness.’ 

‘ Hay, nay, we know you are a general favourite with the 
sex, Honain. I’faith I’m jealous.’ 

‘ I would your highness had cause,’ said Honain, 
demurely. 


CHAPTER YIII. 

The approaching mamage between the King of the Hebrews 
and the Princess of Bagdad was published throughout 
Asia. Preparations were made on the plain of the Tigris 
for the great rejoicing. ^Vhole forests were felled to pro¬ 
vide materials for the buildings and fuel for the banqueting. 
All the governors of provinces and cities, all the chief 
officers and nobility of both nations, were specially invited, 
and daily arrived in state at Bagdad. Among them the 
Viceroy of the Modes and Persians, and his recent bride, 
the Princess Miriam, were conspicuous, followed by a train 
of nearly ten thousand persons. 

A throne, ascended by one hundred steps eovered with 
crimson cloth, and crowned by a golden canopy, was raised 
in the middle of the plain; on each side was a throne less 
elevated, but equally gorgeous. In the front of these thrones 



ALEOY. 


159 


ail immense circus was described, formed by one hundred 
chartaks or amphitheatres, ample room for the admittance 
of the multitude being left between the buildings. These 
chartaks were covered with bright brocades and showy 
carpets ; on each was hoisted a brilliant banner. In some of 
them were bands of choice musicians, in others companies of 
jugglers, buffoons, and storiers. Five chartaks on each side 
of the thrones were allotted for the convenience of the court; 
the rest were filled by the different trades of the city. In 
one the fruiterers had formed a beautiful garden, glowing 
with pomegranates, and gourds, and water-melons, oranges, 
almonds, and pistachio-nuts; in another the butchers ex¬ 
hibited their meats carved in fanciful shapes, and the skins 
of animals formed into ludicrous figures. Hero assembled 
the furriers, all dressed in masquerade, like leopards, lions, 
tigers and foxes; and in another booth mustered the up¬ 
holsterers, proud of a camel made of wood, and reeds, and 
cord, and painted linen, a camel which walked about as if 
alive, though ever and anon a curtain drawn aside dis¬ 
covered to the marvelling multitude the workman within, 
performing in his own piece. Further on might be per¬ 
ceived the cotton manufacturers, whose chartak was full of 
birds of all shapes and plumage, formed nevertheless of 
their curious plant; and, in the centre rose a lofty minaret, 
constructed of the same material, Avith the help of reeds, 
although every one imagined it to be built Avith bricks and 
mortar. It was covered with embroidered Avork, and on 
the top was placed a stork, so cunningly deAused that the 
children pelted it Avith pistachio-nuts. The saddlers shoAved 
their skill in two litters, open at top, each carried on a 
dromedary, and in each a beautiful woman, who diverted 
the spectators with light balls of gilt leather, throAving them 
up both Avith their hands and feet. ISTor were the mat- 
makers backward in the proof of their dexterity, since, 
instead of a common banner, they exhibited a large standard 
of reeds Avorked Avith two lines of Avriting in Kufic, pro¬ 
claiming the happy names of Alroy and Schirene. But 
indeed in every chartak might be seen some Avondrous 


160 


ALIiOY, 


specimens of the wealtli of Bagdad, and of the ingenuity 
of its unrivalled artisans. 

Around this mighty circus, on every side for the space of 
many miles, the plain was studded with innumerable pavi¬ 
lions. At measured intervals were tables furnished with 
every species of provision, and attended by appointed 
servants; flagons of wine and jars of sherbets, mingled 
with infinite baskets of delicious fruits and traj^s of re¬ 
freshing confectionery. Although open to all comers, .so 
great and rapid was the supply, that these banqueting tables 
seemed ever laden; and that the joys of the people might 
bo complete, they were allowed to pursue whatever pleasures 
they thought fit without any restraint, by proclamation, in 
these terms. 

‘ This is the time of feasting, pleasufvE, and rejoicing. 
Let no person reprimand or complain of another : let not 

THE RICH INSULT THE POOR, OR THE STRONG THE WEAK : LET NO 
ONE ASK ANOTHER, “ AYhY HAVE YOU DONE THIS? ” ’ 

Millions of people Avere collected in this Paradise. They 
rejoiced, they feasted, they frolicked, they danced, they sang. 
They listened to the tales of the Arabian storier, at once 
enchanted and enchanting, or melted to the strain of the 
l^ersian poet, as he painted the moon-lit forehead of his 
heroine, and the wasting and shadowy form of his love-sick 
hero; they beheld with amazement the feats of the juggler of 
the Ganges, or giggled at the practised wit and the practical 
buffoonery of the Syrian mime. And the most delighted 
could still spare a fascinating glance to the inviting gestures 
and the voluptuous grace of the dancing girls of Egypt. 
Everywhere reigned melody and merriment, rarity and 
beauty. For once mankind forgot their cares, and delivered 
themselves up to infinite enjoyment. 

‘I grow courteous,’ said Kisloch the Kourd, assisting a 
party into one of the shows. 

‘ And I humane,’ said Calidas the Indian. ‘ Fellow, how 
dare you violate the proclamation, by thrashing that child ? ’ 
lie turned to one of the stewards of the table, who was 


ALEOY. 


16 i 


belabouring tbe unfortunate driver of a camel which had 
stumbled and in its fall had shivered its burden, two panniers 
of porcelain. 

‘Mind your own business, fellow,’ replied the steward, 
and be thankful that for once in your life you can dine.’ 

‘ Is this the way to speak to an oflScer?’ said Calidas the 
Indian; ‘ I have half a mind to cut your tongue out.’ 

‘ Never mind, little fellow,’ said the Guebre, ‘ here is a 
dirhem for you. Run away and be merry.’ 

‘ A miracle ! ’ grinned the Negro ; ‘ he giveth alms.’ 

‘ And you are witty,’ rejoined the Guebre. ‘ ’Tis a won¬ 
drous day.’ 

‘ What shall we do ? ’ said Kisloch. 

‘ Let us dine,’ proposed the Negro. 

‘Ay! under this plane-tree,’said Calidas. ‘’Tis pleasant 
to be alone. I hate everybody but ourselves.’ 

‘ Here stop, you rascal,’ said the Guebre. ‘ What’s your 
name ? ’ 

‘ I am a Hadgee,’ said our old friend Abdallah, the servant 
of the charitable merchant Ali, and who was this day one of 
the officiating stewards. 

‘ Are you a Jew, you scoundrel ? ’ said the Guebre, ‘ that 
is the only thing worth being. Bring some wine, you 
accursed Giaour 1 ’ 

‘ Instantly,’ said Kisloch, ‘ and a pilau.’ 

‘ And a gazelle stuffed with almonds,’ said Calidas. 

‘And some sugar-plums,’ said the Negro. 

‘ Quick, you infernal Gentile, or I’ll send this javelin in 
your back,’ hallooed the Guebre. 

The servile Abdallah hastened away, and soon bustled 
back, bearing two flagons of wine, and followed by four 
servants, each with a tray covered with dainties. 

‘Where are you going, you accursed scoundrels?’ grum¬ 
bled Khsloch; ‘ wait upon the true believers.’ 

‘ We shall be more free alone,’ whispered Calidas. 

‘ Away, then, dogs,’ growled Kisloch. 

Abdallah and his attendants hurried off, but were soon 
summoned back. 

M 


162 


ALEOY. 


‘Why did you not bring Schiraz wine?’ asked Calidas, 
Avith an eye of fire. 

‘The pilau is overdone,’ thundered Kisloch. 

‘ You have brought a lamb stuffed with pistachio-nuts, 
instead of a gazelle with almonds,’ said the Guebre. 

‘Not half sugar-plums enough,’ said the Negro. 

‘ Everything is wrong,’ said Eiisloch. ‘ Go, and get us a 
Nabob.’ 

In time, however, even this unmanageable creAV Avere 
satisfied; and, seated under their plane-tree, and stuffing 
themselves with all the dainties of the East, they became 
more amiable as their appetites decreased. 

‘ A bumper, Calidas, and a song,’ said Kisloch. 

‘ ’Tis rare stuff*,’ said the Guebre; ‘ come, Cally, it should 
inspire you.’ 

‘ Here goes, then; mind the chorus.’ 

THE SONG OF CALIDAS. 

Drink, drink, deeply drink. 

Never feel, and never think; 

What’s love ? what’s fame ? a sigh, a smilo. 

Friendship? but a hollow %vile. 

If you’ve any thought or woe. 

Drown them in the goblet’s flow. 

Yes! dash them in this brimming cup; 

Dash them in, and drink them up. 

Drink, drink, deeply drink. 

Never feel, and never think. 

‘ Hark, the trumpets ! The King and Queen! The pro¬ 
cession is coming. Let’s away.’ 

‘Again! they must be near. Hurry, hurry, for good 
places.’ 

‘ Break all the cups and dishes. Come along ! ’ 

The multitude from all quarters hurried to the great cir¬ 
cus, amid the clash of ten thousand cymbals and the blast 
of innumerable trumpets. In the distance, issuing from the 
gates of Bagdad, might be discerned a brilliant crowd, the 
advance company of the bridal procession. 

Tliere came five hundred maidens crowned with flowers. 


ALROY. 


163 


and beauteous as the buds that girt tbeir hair. Their 
flowing robes were wliiter than the swan, and each within 
her hand a palm-branch held. 

Followed these a band of bright musicians, clothed in 
golden robes, and sounding silver trumpets. 

Then five hundred youths, brilliant as stars, clad in jackets 
of white fox-skin, and alternately bearing baskets of fruit or 
flowers. 

Followed these a band of bright musicians, clothed in 
silver robes, and sounding golden trumpets. 

Six choice steeds, sumptuously caparisoned, each led by 
an Arab groom.*’® 

The household of Medad, in robes of crimson, lined with 
sable. 

The standard of Medad. 

Medad, on a coal-black Arab, followed by three hundrea 
officers of his division, all mounted on steeds of pure race. 

Slaves, bearing the bridal present of Medad; six Damas¬ 
cus sabres of unrivalled temper.'^® 

Twelve choice steeds, sumptuously caparisoned, each led 
by an Anatolian groom. 

The household of Ithamar, in robes of violet, lined witli 
ermine. 

The standard of Ithamar. 

Ithamar, on a snow-white Anatolian charger, followed by 
six hundred officers of his division, all mounted on steeds of 
pure race. 

Slaves bearing the marriage present of Ithamar; a golden 
vase of rubies borne on a violet throne. 

One hundred Negroes, their noses bored, and hung with 
rings of brilliants, playing upon wind instruments and 
kettle-drums. 

The standard of the City of Bagdad. 

The deputation from the citizens of Bagdad. 

Two hundred mules, with caparisons of satin, embroi¬ 
dered with gold, and adorned with small golden bells. 
These bore the sumptuous wardrobe, presented by the city 
to their princess. Each mule was attended by a girl, 

51 2 


164 


ALROY. 


dressed like a Peri, with starry wings, and a man, masked 
as a hideous Dive. 

The standard of Egypt. 

The deputation from the Hebrews of Egypt, mounted on 
dromedaries, with silver furniture. 

Eifty slaves, bearing their present to the princess, with 
golden cords, a mighty bath of jasper, beatifnlly carved, the 
sarcophagus of some ancient temple, and purchased for an 
immense sum. 

The standard of Syria. 

The deputation from the Hebrews of the Holy Land, 
headed by Rabbi Zimri himself, each carrying in his hand 
his offering to the nuptial pair, a precious vase, containing 
earth from the Mount of Sion. 

The standard of Hamadan. 

The deputation from the citizens of Hamadan, headed by 
the venerable Bostenay himself, whose sumptuous charger 
was led by Caleb. 

The present of the city of Hamadan to David Alroy, 
offered at his own suggestion ; the cup in which the Prince 
of the Captivity carried his tribute, now borne full of sand. 

Eifty choice steeds, sumptuously caparisoned, each led by 
a Median or Persian groom. 

The household of Abner and Miriam, in number twelve 
hundred, clad in chain armour of ivory and gold. 

The standard of the Medes and Persians. 

Two white elephants, with golden litters, bearing the 
Viceroy and his Princess. 

The offering of Abner to Alroy; twelve elephants of 
state, with furniture embroidered with jewels, each tended 
by an Indian clad in chain armour of ivory and gold. 

The offering of Miriam to Schirene ; fifty plants of roses 
from Rocnabad; a white shawl of Cashmere fifty feet in 
length, which folded into the handle of a fan ; fifty screens, 
each made of a feather of the roc; and fifty vases of crystal 
full of exquisite perfumes, and each sealed with a talisman 
of precious stones. 

After these followed the eunuch guard. 


ALROY. 


165 


Then came the hand of the serail, consisting of three 
hundred d’«‘^arfs, hideous indeed to behold, but the most 
complete musicians in the world. 

The steeds of Solomon, in number one hundred, each 
with a natural star upon its front, uncaparisoned, and led 
only by a bridle of diamonds. 

The household of Alroy and Schirene. Foremost, the 
Lord Honain riding upon a chestnut charger, shod with 
silver; the dress of the rider, pink with silver stars. From 
his rosy turban depended a tremulous aigrette of brilliants,'* 
blazing with a thousand shifting tints. 

Two hundred pages followed him ; and then servants of 
both sexes, gorgeously habited, amounting to nearly two 
thousand, carrying rich vases, magnificent caskets, and 
costly robes. The treasurer and two hundred of his under¬ 
lings came next, showering golden dirhems on all sides. 

The sceptre of Solomon borne by Agriel himself. 

A magnificent and lofty car, formed of blue enamel with 
golden wheels, and axletrees of turquoises and brilliants, 
and drawn by twelve snow-white and sacred horses, four 
abreast; in the car Alroy and Schirene. 

Five thousand of the sacred guard closed the procession. 

Amid the exclamations of the people, this gorgeous pro¬ 
cession crossed the plain, and moved around the mighty 
circus. The conqueror and his bride ascended their throne; 
its steps were covered by the youths and maidens. On 
tlie throne upon their right sat the venerable Bostenay; on 
the left, the gallant Viceroy and his Princess. The char- 
taks on each side were crowded with the court. 

The deputations made their offerings, the chiefs and 
captains paid their homage, the trades of the city moved 
before the throne in order, and exhibited their various in¬ 
genuity. Thrice was the proclamation made, amid the 
sound of trumpets, and then began the games. 

A thousand horsemen dashed into the arena and threw 
the jerreed. They galloped at full speed; they arrested 
their fiery charges in mid course, and flung their long 
javelins at the minute but sparkling target, the imitative 


166 


ALROY. 


form of a rare and brilliant bird. The conquerors received 
their prizes from the hand of the princess herself, bright 
shawls, and jewelled daggers, and rosaries of gems. Some¬ 
times the trumpets announced a prize from the vice-queen, 
sometimes from the venerable Bostenay, sometimes from 
the victorious generals, or the loyal deputations, sometimes 
from the united trades, sometimes from the city of Bagdad, 
sometimes from the city of Hamadan. The hours flew 
away in gorgeous and ceaseless variety. 

‘ I would we were alone, my own Schirene,’ said Alroy 
to his bride. 

‘ I would so too; and yet I love to see all Asia prostrate 
at the feet of Alroy.’ 

‘Will the sun never set? Give me thy hand to play 
with.’ 

‘ Hush ! See Miriam smiles.’ 

‘ Lovest thou my sister, my own Schirene ? ’ 

‘Hone dearer but thyself.’ 

‘ Talk not of my sister, but ourselves. Thinkest thou 
the sun is nearer setting, love ? ’ 

‘ I cannot see; thine eyes they dazzle me, they are so 
brilliant, sweet!’ 

‘ 01 my soul, I could pour out my passion on thy breast.’ 

‘ Thou art very serious.’ 

‘ Love is ever so.’ 

‘Hay, sweet! It makes me wild and fanciful. How I 
could do such things, but what I know not. I would we 
had wings, and then we would fly away.’ 

‘See, I must salute this victor in the games. Most I 
unloose thy hand! Dear hand, farewell! Think of me 
while I speak, my precious life. ’Tis done. Give back 
thy hand, or else methinks I shall die. What’s this ? ’ 

A horseman, in no holiday dress, but covered with dust, 
rushed into the circus, bearing in his hand a tall lance, on 
which was fixed a scroll. The marshals of the games 
endeavoured to prevent his advance, but he would not be 
stayed. His message was to the king alone. A rumour of 
news from the army circulated throughout the crowd. And 


ALROY. 


167 


news from the army it was. Another victory! Scherirah 
had defeated the Sultan of Roum, who was now a suppliant 
for peace and alliance. Sooth to say, the intelligence had 
arrived at dawn of day, hut the courtly Honain had con¬ 
trived that it should bo communicated at a later and more 
effective moment. 

There scarcely needed this additional excitement to this 
glorious day. But the people cheered, the golden dirhems 
were scattered with renewed profusion, and the intelligence 
was received by all parties as a solemn ratification by 
Jehovah, or by Allah, of the morning ceremony. 

The sun set, the court rose, and returned in the same 
pomp to the serail. The twilight died away, a beacon 
fired on a distant eminence announced the entrance of Alroy 
and Schirene into the nuptial chamber, and suddenly, as by 
magic, the mighty city, every mosque, and minaret, and 
tower, and terrace, and the universal plain, and the num¬ 
berless pavilions, and the immense circus, and the vast and 
winding river, blazed with light. From every spot a lamp, 
a torch, a lantern, tinted with every hue, burst forth; enor¬ 
mous cressets of silver radiancy beamed on the top of each 
chartak, and huge bonfires of ruddy flame started up along 
the whole horizon. 

For seven days and seven nights this unparalleled scene of 
rejoicing, though ever various, never ceased. Long, long 
was remembered the bridal feast of the Hebrew prince and 
the caliph’s daughter ; long, long did the peasantry on the 
plains of Tigris sit down by the side of that starry river, 
and tell the wondrous tale to their marvelling posterity. 

How what a glorious man was David Alroy, lord of the 
mightiest empire in the world, and wedded to the most 
beautiful princess, surrounded by a prosperous and obe¬ 
dient people, guarded by invincible armies, one on whom 
Earth showered all its fortune, and Heaven all its favour; 
and all by the power of his own genius! 


1C8 


PART IX. 


CHAPTER I. 

*Twas midniglit, and the storm still raged; ’mid the roar 
of the thunder and the shrieks of the wind, the floods of 
forky lightning each instant revealed the broad and billowy 
breast of the troubled Tigris. 

Jabaster stood gazing upon the wild scene from the gal¬ 
lery of his palace. His countenance was solemn, but dis¬ 
quieted. 

‘ I would that he were here ! ’ exclaimed the high priest. 
‘Yet why should I desire his presence, who heralds only 
gloom ? Yet in his absence am I gay ? I am nothing. This 
Bagdad weighs upon me like a cloak of lead : my spirit is dull 
and broken.’ 

‘ They say Alroy gives a grand banquet in the serail to¬ 
night, and toasts his harlot ’mid the thunderbolts. Is 
there no hand to write upon the wall ? He is found want¬ 
ing, he is weighed, and is indeed found wanting. The 
parting of his kingdom soon wdll come, and then, I could 
weep, oh! I could weep, and down these stern and sel¬ 
dom yielding cheeks pour the wild anguish of my des¬ 
perate woe. So young, so great, so favoured! But one 
more step a God, and now a foul Belshazzar! 

‘Was it for this his gentle youth was passed in musing 
solitude and mystic studies? Was it for this the holy 
messenger summoned his most religious spirit ? Was it 
for this he crossed the fiery desert, and, communed with 
his fathers in their tombs? Is this the end of all his vic¬ 
tories and all his vast achievements ? To banquet with a 
wanton 1 

‘ A year ago, this very night, it was the eve of battle, I 



ALROY. 


169 


stood within his tent to wait his final word. He mused 
awhile, and then he said, “ Good night, Jabaster !” I believed 
myself the nearest to his heart, as he has ever been nearest to 
mine, but that’s all over. He never says, “ Good night, Jabas¬ 
ter,” now. Why, what’s all this ? Methinks I am a child. 

‘ The Lord’s anointed is a prisoner now in the light grat¬ 
ing of a bright kiosk, and never gazes on the world he con¬ 
quered. Egypt and Syi’ia, even farthest Ind, send forth 
their messengers to greet Alroy, the great, the proud, the 
invincible. And where is he ? In a soft Paradise of girls 
and eunuchs, crowned with flowers, listening to melting lays, 
and the wild trilling of the amorous lute. He spares no 
hours to council; all is left to his prime favourites, of 
whom the leader is that juggling fiend I sometime called 
my brother. 

‘ Why rest I here ? Whither should I fly ? Methinks my 
jDresence is still a link to decency. Should I tear off the 
cphod, I scarcely fancy ’twould blaze upon another’s breast. 
He goes not to the sacrifice; they say he keeps no fast, ob¬ 
serves no ritual, and that their festive fantasies will not bo 
balked, even by the Sabbath. I have not seen him thrice 
since the marriage. Honain has told her I did oppose it, 
and she bears to me a hatred that only women feel. Our 
strong passions break into a thousand purposes: women 
have one. Their love is dangerous, but their hate is fatal. 

‘ See ! a boat bounding on the waters. On such a night, 
but one would dare to venture.’ 

Now visible, now in darkness, a single lantern at the 
prow, Jabaster watched with some anxiety the slight bark 
buffeting the waves. A flash of lightning illumined the 
whole river, and tipped with a spectral light even the dis¬ 
tant piles of building. The boat and the toiling figure of 
the single rower were distinctly perceptible. Now all again 
was darkness; the wind suddenly subsided; in a few 
minutes the plash of the oars Avas audible, and the boat 
apparently stopped beneath the palace. 

There Avas a knocking at the private portah 

‘Who knocks ?’ enquired Jabaster. 


170 


ALROY. 


‘ A friend to Israel.’ 

‘ Abidan, by bis voice. Art tboii alone ?’ 

‘ The prophetess is with me ; only she.’ 

‘ A moment. I’ll open the gate. Draw the boat within 
the arch.’ 

‘ Jabaster descended from the gallery, and in a few mo¬ 
ments returned with two visitors : the youthful prophetess 
Esther, and her companion, a man short in stature, but with 
a powerful and well-knit frame. His countenance was me¬ 
lancholy, and, with harshness in the lower part, not with¬ 
out a degree of pensive beauty in the broad clear brow and 
sunken eyes, unusual in Oriental visages. 

‘A rough night,’ said Jabaster. 

‘ To those who fear it,’ replied Abidan. ‘ The sun has 
brought so little joy to me, I care not for the storm.’ 

‘ What news P’ 

‘ Woe ! woe ! woe ! ’ 

‘ Thy usual note, my sister. Will the day never come 
when we may change it ?’ 

‘ Woe ! woe ! woe ! unutterable woe!’ 

‘ Abidan, how fares it ?’ 

‘ Very well.’ 

‘Indeed!’ 

‘ As it may turn out.’ 

‘ You are brief.’ 

‘Bitter.’ 

‘ Have you been to court, that you have learnt to be so 
wary in your words, my friend ?’ 

‘ I know not what may happen. In time we may all be¬ 
come courtiers, though I fear, Jabaster, we have done too 
much to be rewarded. I gave him my blood, and you some¬ 
thing more, and now we are at Bagdad. ’Tis a fine city. I 
wish to Heaven the shower of Sodom would rain upon its 
terraces.’ 

‘ I know thou hast something terrible to tell. I know it 
by that gloomy brow of thine, that lowers like the tempest. 
Speak out, man, I can bear the worst, for which I am pre¬ 
pared.’ 


ALROY. 


171 


‘ Take it, then. Alroy has proclaimed himself Caliph. 
Abner is made Sultan of Persia; Asriel, Ithamar, Medad, 
and the chief captains, Vizirs, Honain their chief. Four 
Moslem nobles are sworn into the council. The Princess 
goes to mosque in state next Friday; ’tis said thy pupil 
doth accompany her.’ 

‘ I’ll not believe it! By the God of Sinai, I’ll not believe 
it! Were my own eye the accursed witness of the deed, 
I’d not believe it. Go to mosque ! They play with thee, 
my good Abidan, they play with thee.’ 

‘ As it may be. ’Tis a rumour, but rumours herald deeds. 
The rest of my intelligence is true. I had it from my kins¬ 
man, stout Zalmunna. He left the banquet.’ 

‘ Shall I go to him ? Methieks one single word. To 
mosque! only a rumour and a false one. I’ll never believe 
it; no, no, no, never, never ! Is he not the Lord’s anointed ? 
The ineffable curse upon this daughter of the Moabite ! Ho 
marvel that it thunders ! By heavens, I’ll go and beard 
him in his orgies ! ’ 

‘ You know your power better than Abidan. You bearded 
him before his marriage, yet-’ 

‘ He married. ’Tis true. Honain, their chief. And I 
kept his ring! Honain is my brother. Have I ne’er a 
dagger to cut the bond of brotherhood ?’ 

‘ We have all daggers, Jabaster, if w'e knew but how to 
use them.’ 

‘ ’Tis strange, we met after twenty years of severance. 
You were not in the chamber, Abidan. ’Twas at council. 
We met after twenty years of severance. He is my brother. 
’Tis strange, I say: I felt that man shrink from my em¬ 
brace.’ 

‘ Honain is a philosopher, and believes in sympathy. 
’Twould appear there was none between you. His sj^stem, 
then, absolves you from all ties.’ 

‘You are sure the rest of the intelligence is true ? I’ll not 
believe the mosque, the rest is bad enough.’ 

‘ Zalmunna left the banquet. Hassan Subah’s brother 
sat above him.’ 


112 


ALROr. 


‘ Subali’s brother! ’Tis all over, then. Is he oi tho 
council ?’ 

‘ Ay, and others.’ 

‘ Where now is Israel?’ 

* She should be in her tents.’ 

‘ Woe! woe! unutterable woe ! ’ exclaimed the prophetess, 
who, standing motionless at the back of the chamber, seemed 
inattentive to their conversation. 

‘ Jabaster paced the gallery with agitated steps. Sud¬ 
denly he stopped, and, walking up to Abidan, seized his 
arm, and looked him sternly in the face. ‘ I know thy 
thoughts, Abidan,’ exclaimed the priest; ‘ but it cannot be. 
I have dismissed, henceforth and for ever I have dismissed 
all feeling from my mind ; now I have no brother, no friend, 
no pupil, and, I fear, no Saviour. Israel is all in all to me. 
I have no other life. ’Tis not compunction, then, that stays 
my arm. My heart’s as hard as thine.’ 

‘Why stays it, then ?’ 

‘ Because with him we fall. He is the last of all his 
sacred line. There is no other hand to grasp our sceptre.’ 

‘ Oiir sceptre ! what sceptre ?’ 

‘ The sceptre of our kings.’ 

‘ Kings! ’ 

‘Ay, why dost thou look so dark ?’ 

‘ How looked the prophet when the stiff-necked populace 
forsooth must have a king ! Did he smile ? Did he shout, 
and clap his hands, and cry, God save his Majesty ! 0, Ja¬ 
baster ! honoured, rare Jabaster! thon second Samuel of 
our lightheaded people 1 there was a time when Israel had 
no king except their God. AVere we viler then ? Did 
kings conquer Canaan ? AVho was Moses, who was Aaron, 
who was mighty Joshua? Was the sword of Gideon a 
kingly sword ? Did the locks of Samson shade royal tem¬ 
ples ? • Would a king have kept his awful covenant like 
solemn Jephtha ? Royal words are light as air, when, to 
maintain them, you injure any other than a subject. 

‘ Kings ! why what’s a king ? AVhy should one man break 
the equal sanctity of our chosen race ? Is their blood purer 


ALROY. 173 

than our own ? We are all the seed of Abraham. Wlio was 
Saul, and who was David ? I never heard that they were 
a different breed from onr fathers. Grant them devout, 
which they were not; and brave and wise, which other men 
w^ere; have their posterity a patent for all virtues ? No, 
Jabaster ! thou ne’er didst err, but when thou placedst a 
crown upon this haughty stripling. What he did, a thou¬ 
sand might have done. ’Twas thy mind inspired the deed. 
And now he is a king ; and now Jabaster, the very soul of 
Israel, who should be our Judge and leader, Jabaster trem¬ 
bles in disgrace, while our unhallowed Sanhedrim is filled 
with Ammonites ! ’ 

‘ Abidan, thou hast touched me to the quick; thou hast 
stirred up thoughts that ever and anon, like strong and fatal 
vapours, have risen from the dark abyss of thought, and I 
have quelled them.’ 

‘ Let them rise, I say; let them drown the beams of 
that all-scorching sun we suffer under, that drinks all 
vegetation up, and makes us languish with a dull ex¬ 
haustion !’ 

‘ Joy ! joy ! unutterable joy !’ 

‘ Hark ! the prophetess has changed her note; and yet 
she hears us not. The spirit of the Lord is truly with her. 
Come, Jabaster, I see thy heart is opening to thy people’s 
sufferings; thy people, my Jabaster, for art not thou our 
Judge ? at least, thou shalt be.’ 

‘ Can we call back the Theocracy ? Is’t possible ?’ 

‘ But say the word, and it is done, Jabaster. Nay, stare 
not. Dost thou think there are no true hearts in Israel ? 
Dost thou suppose thy children have beheld, without a 
thought, the foul insults poured on thee ; thee, their priest, 
their adored high priest, one who recalls the best days of 
the past, the days of their great Judges ? But one word, 

one single movement of that mitred head, and- But I 

speak unto a mind that feels more than I can express. Be 
silent, tongue, thou art a babbling counsellor. Jabaster’s 
patriot soul needs not the idle schooling of a child. If he 
5)C silent, ’tis that his wisdom deems that the hour is not 


174 


ALEOY. 


ripe; "but, 'wlien her leader speaks, Israel will not he 
slack.’ 

‘ The Moslemin in council! We know what must come 
next. Our national existence is in its last agony. Me- 
thinks the time is very ripe, Abidan.’ 

‘ Why, so we think, great sir ; and say the word, and 
twenty thousand spears will guard the Ark. I’ll answer 
for my men. Stout Scherirah looks grimly on the Moabites. 
A word from thee, and the whole Syrian army will join our 
banner, the Lion of Judah, that shall be our hag. The 
tyrant and his satraps, let them die, and then the rest must 
join us. We’ll proclaim the covenant, and, leaving Babyloh 
to a bloody fate, march on to Sion !’ 

‘ Sion, his youthful dream, Sion !’ 

‘You muse !’ 

‘ King or no king, he is the Lord’s anointed. Shall this 
hand, that poured the oil on his hallowed head, wash out 
the balmy signet with his blood ? Must I slay him ? 
Shall this kid be seethed even in its mother’s milk ?’ 

‘ His voice is low, and yet his face is troubled. How 
now, sir ?’ 

‘ What art thou ? Ah ! Abidan, trusty, stanch Abidan ! 
You see, Abidan, I was thinking, my good Abidan, all tliis 
may be the frenzy of a revel. To-morrow’s dawn may 
summon cooler counsels. The tattle of the table, it is 
sacred. Let us forget it; let us pass it over. The Lord 
may turn his heart. Who knows, who knows, Abidan !’ 

‘ hToble sir, a moment since your mind was like your faith, 
firm and resolved, and now-’ 

‘ School me not, school me not, good Abidan. There is 
that within my mind you cannot fathom; some secret sor¬ 
rows which are all my own. Leave me, good friend, leave 
me awhile. When Israel calls me I shall not be wantino*. 
Be sure of that, Abidan, be sure of that. Nay, do not go ; 
the night is very rough, and the fair prophetess should not 
again stem the swelling river. I’ll to my closet, and will 
soon return.’ 

Jabastcr fjuittcd the gallery, and entered a small apart- 



ALROY. 


175 


ment. Several large volumes, unclasped and open, were 
lying on various parts of the divan. Before them stood his 
brazen cabalistic table. He closed the chamber with a 
cautious air. He advanced into the centre of the apart¬ 
ment. He lifted up his hands to heaven, and clasped them 
with an expression almost of agony. 

‘ Is it come to this ?’ he muttered in a tone of deep op¬ 
pression. ‘ Is it come to this ? What is’t I have heard ? 
wdiat done ? Do’wn, tempting devil, down! O life ! 0 

glory ! 0 my country, my chosen people, and my sacred 

creed ! w^hy do we live, why act ? Why have we feeling 
for aught that’s famous, or for aught that’s holy ? Let mo 
die ! let, let me die ! The torture of existence is too great.’ 

He flung himself upon the couch; he buried his awful 
countenance in his robes. His mighty heart was convulsed 
with passion. There did he lie, that great and solemn man, 
prostrate and woe-begone. 


CHAPTER II. 

‘ The noisy banquet lingers in my car; I love to be alone.' 
‘With me?’ 

‘ Thou art myself; I have no other life.’ 

‘ Sweet bird ! It is now a caliph.’ 

‘ I am what thou wiliest, soul of my sweet existence! 
Pomp and dominion, fame and victory, seem now but flawed 
and dimly-shaded gems compared with thy bright smile !’ 

‘ My plaintive nightingale, shall we hunt to-day ?’ 

‘ Alas ! my rose, I would rather lie upon this lazy couch, 
and gaze upon thy beauty !’ 

‘ Or sail upon the cool and azure lake, in some bright 
barque, like to a sea-nymph’s shell, and followed by the 
swans ?’ 

‘ There is no lake so blue as thy deep eye; there is no 
swan so white as thy round arm !’ 

‘ Or shall we launch our falcons in the air, and bring the 
golden pheasant to our feet ?’ 



176 


ALROY. 


‘ I am tlie golden pheasant at thy feet; why wouldst thou 
richer prey ?’ 

‘ Rememberest thou thy earliest visit to this dear kiosk, 
my gentle mute ? There thou stoodst with folded arms 
and looks demure as day, and ever and anon with those 
dark eyes stealing a glance which made my cheek quite 
pale. Methinks I see thee even yet, shy bird. Dost know, 
I was so foolish when it quitted me, dost know I cried r’ 

‘ Ah, no ! thou didst not cry ?’ 

‘ Indeed, I think I did.’ 

‘ Tell me again, my own Schirene, indeed didst cry ?’ 

‘ Indeed I did, my soul!’ 

‘ I would those tears were in some crystal vase, I’d give 
a province for the costly urn.’ 

She threw her arms around his neck and covered his face 
with kisses. 

Sunset sounded from the minarets. They arose and wan¬ 
dered together in the surrounding paradise. The sky was 
tinted with a pale violet flush, a single star floating by the 
side of the white moon, that beamed with a dim lustre, soft 
and shapely as a pearl. 

‘ Beautiful!’ exclaimed the pensive Schirene, as she gazed 
upon the star. 0, my Alroy, why cannot we ever live 
alone, and ever in a Paradise ?’ 

‘ I am wearied of empire,’ replied Alroy with a smile, ‘let 
us fly !’ 

‘ Is there no island, with all that can make life charming, 
and yet impervious to man ? How little do we require ! 
Ah ! if these gardens, instead of being surrounded by hate¬ 
ful Bagdad, were only encompassed by some beautiful ocean! ’ 

‘ My heart, we live in a paradise, and are seldom dis¬ 
turbed, thanks to Honain!’ 

‘ But the very consciousness that there are any other per¬ 
sons existing besides ourselves is to me painful. Everyone 
who even thinks of you seems to rob me of a part of your 
being. Besides, I am weary of pomp and palaces. I should 
like to live in a sparry grot, and sleep upon a couch of 
eweet leaves!’ 


ALROY. 


177 


This interesting discussion was disturbed by a dwarf, 
who, in addition to being very small and very ugly, was 
dumb. He bowed before the Princess, and then had re¬ 
course to a great deal of pantomimic action, by which she 
discovered that it was dinner-time. Ho other person could 
have ventured to disturb the royal pair, but this little being 
was a privileged favourite. 

So Alroy and Schirene entered the Serail. An immense 
cresset-lamp, fed with perfumed oil, threw a soft light round 
the sumptuous chamber. At the end stood a row of 
eunuchs in scarlet dresses, and each holding a tall silver 
staff. The Caliph and the Sultana threw themselves upon 
a couch covered with a hundred cushions ; on one side stood 
a group consisting of the captain of the guard and other 
officers of the household, on the other, of beautiful female 
slaves magnificently attired. 

The line of domestics at the end of the apartment 
opened, and a body of slaves advanced, carrying trays of 
ivory and gold, and ebony and silver, covered with the 
choicest dainties, curiously prepared. These were in turn 
offered to the Caliph and the Sultana by their surrounding 
attendants. The Princess accepted a spoon made of a single 
pearl, the long, thin golden handle of which was studded 
with rubies, and condescended to partake of some saffron 
soup, of which she was fond. Afterwards she regaled her¬ 
self with the breast of a cygnet, stuffed with almonds, and 
stewed with violets and cream. Having now a little satis¬ 
fied her appetite, and wishing to show a mark of her favour 
to a particular individual, she ordered the captain of the 
guard instantly to send him the whole of the next course 
with her compliments. Her attention was then engaged 
with a dish of those delicate ortolans that feed upon the 
vine-leaves of Schiraz, and with which the Governor of 
Hishabur took especial care that she should be well provided. 
Tearing the delicate birds to pieces with her still more deli¬ 
cate fingers, she insisted upon feeding Alroy, who of course 
yielded to her solicitations. In the meantime, they re- 
fi'cshcd themselves with their favourite sherbet of pome. 


178 


ALROY. 


granateSj and the golden wine of Mount Lebanon.^^ The 
Caliph, who could eat no more ortolans, although fed by 
sucli delicate lingers, was at length obliged to call for ‘ rice,’ 
which was synonymous to commanding the banquet to 
disappear. The attendants now brought to each basins of 
gold, and ewers of rock crystal filled with rose water, with 
towels of that rare Egyptian linen which can be made only 
of the cotton that grows upon the banks of the Nile. 
While they amused themselves with eating sugar-plums, 
and drinking coffee flavoured with cinnamon, the female 
slaves danced before them in the most graceful attitudes to 
the melody of invisible musicians. 

‘ My enchanting Schirene,’ said the Caliph, ‘ I have dined, 
thanks to your attention, very well. These slaves of yours 
dance admirably, and are exceedingly beautiful. Your 
music, too, is beyond all praise; but, for my own part, I 
would rather be quite alone, and listening to one of your 
songs.’ 

‘ I have written a new one to-day. You shall hear it.’ 
So saying, she clapped her Httle white hands, and all the 
attendants immediately withdrew. 


CHAPTER III. 

‘ The stars are stealing forth, and so will I. Sorry sight! 
to view Jabaster, with a stealthy step, skulk like a thing 
dishonoured ! Oh ! may the purpose consecrate the deed ! 
the die is cast.’ 

So saying, the High Priest, muffled up in his robe, 
emerged from his palace into the busy streets. It is at 
night that the vitality of Oriental life is most impressive. 
The narrow winding streets, crowded with a population 
breathing the now sufferable air, the illuminated coffee¬ 
houses, the groups of gay yet sober revellers, the music, 
and the dancing, and the animated recitals of the poet and 
the storier, all combine to invest the starry hours with a 



ALKOY.' 179 

begailing and even fascinating cliaracter of enjoyment and 
adventure. 

It was the night after the visit of Abidan and the pro- 
l^hetess. Jabaster had agreed to meet Abidan in the square 
of the great mosque two hours after sunset, and thither he 
now repaired. 

‘I am somewhat before my time,’ he said, as he entered 
the great square, over which the rising moon threw a full 
flood of light. A few dark shadows of human beings alone 
moved in the distance. The world was in the streets and 
cofiee-houses. ‘ I am somewhat before my time,’ said Ja¬ 
baster. ‘ Conspirators are watchful. I am anxious for the 
meeting, and j^et I dread it. Since he broke this business, 
I have never slept. My mind is a chaos. I will not think. 
If ’tis to be done, let it be done at once. I' am more 
tempted to sheathe this dagger in Jabaster’s breast than in 
Alroy’s. If life or empire were the paltry stake, I would 
end a hfe that now can bring no joy, and yield authority 
tliat hath no charm; but Israel, Israel, thou for whom 
I have endured so much, let me forget Jabaster had a 
mother ! 

‘ But for this thought that links me with my God, and 
leads my temper to a higher state, how vain and sad, how 
wearisome and void, were this said world they think of! 
But for this thought, I could sit down and die. Yea 1 my 
great heart could crack, worn out, worn out; my mighty 
passions, with their fierce but flickering flame, sink dovm 
and die ; and the strong brain that ever hath urged my 
course, and pricked me onward with perpetual thought, 
desert the rudder it so long hath held, like some baffled 
pilot in blank discomforture, in the far centre of an un¬ 
known sea. 

‘ Study and toil, anxiety and sorrow, mighty action, per¬ 
chance Time, and disappointment, which is worse than all, 
have done their work, and not in vain. I am no longer the 
same Jabaster that gazed upon the stars of Caucasus. Mc- 
thinks even they look dimmer than of yore. The glory 
>f my life is fading. My leaves arc sear, tinged, but not 


180 


alroy. 


tainted. I am still the same in one respect; I have not left 
my God, in deed or thought. Ah ! who art thou ? ’ 

‘ A friend to Israel.’ 

‘ I am glad that Israel hath a friend. Noble Abidan, I 
have well considered all that hath passed between us. 
Sooth to say, you touched upon a string I’ve played before, 
but kept it for my loneliness ; a jarring tune, indeed a jar¬ 
ring tune, but so it is, and being so, let me at once unto 
your friends, Abidan.’ 

‘ Noble Jabaster, thou art what I deemed thee.’ 

‘ Abidan, they say the consciousness of doing justly is the 
best basis of a happy mind.’ 

‘ Even so.’ 

‘ And thou believe st it ? ’ 

‘ Without doubt.’ 

‘ We are doing very justly ? ’ 

‘ ’Tis a weak word for such a holy purpose.’ 

‘ I am most wretched ! ’ 


CHAPTER IV. 

The High Priest and his companion entered the house of 
Abidan. Jabaster addressed the already assembled guests. 

‘ Brave Scherirah, it joys me to find thee here. In Israel’s 
cause when was Scherirah wanting ? Stout Zalmunna, we 
have not seen enough of each other: the blame is mine. 
Gentle prophetess, thy blessing ! 

‘ Good friends, why we meet here is known to all. Little 
did we dream of such a meeting when we crossed the Tigris. 
But that is nothing. We come to act, and not to argue. 
Our great minds, they are resolved: our solemn purpose 
requires no demonstration. If there be one among us who 
would have Israel a slave to Ishmael, who would lose all 
we have prayed for, all we have fought for, all we have won, 
and all for which we are prepared to die, if there be one 
among us who would have the ark polluted, and Jehovah’s 
altar stained with a Gentile sacrifice, if there be one among 



ALROY, 


181 


us wlio does not si^li for Sion, who would not yield his 
breath to build the Temple and gain the heritage his fathers 
lost, why, let him go ! There is none such among us : then 
stay, and free your country ! ’ 

‘ We are prepared, great Jabaster; we are prepared, all, 
all! ’ 

‘ I know it; you are like myself. Necessity hath taught 
decision. Now for our plans. Speak, Zalmunna.’ 

‘ Noble Jabaster, I see much difficulty. Alroy no longer 
quits his palace. Our entrance unwatched is, you well know, 
impossible. What say you, Scherirah ? ’ 

‘ I doubt not of my men, but war against Alroy is, to say 
nought of danger, of doubtful issue.’ 

‘ I am prepared to die, but not to fail,’ said Abidan. 
‘ We must be certain. Open w^ar I fear. The mass of 
tlie army will side with their leaders, and they are with 
the tyrant. Let us do the deed, and they must join us.’ 

‘ Is it impossible to gain his presence to some sacrifice in 
honour of some by-gone victory ; what think ye ? ’ 

‘ I doubt much, Jabaster. At this moment he little 
wishes to sanction our national ceremonies with his royal 
2 :>erson. The woman assuredly will stay him. And, even 
if he come, success is difficult, and therefore doubtful.’ 

‘Noble warriors, list to a woman’s voice,’ exclaimed the 
lu’ophetess, coming forward. ‘ ’Tis weak, but with such 
instruments, even the aspirations of a child, the Lord will 
commune with his chosen people. There is a secret way 
by which I can gain the gardens of the palace. To-morrow 
night, just as the moon is in her midnight bower, behold 
the accursed pile shall blaze. Let Abidan’s troojD be all 
prepared, and at the moment when the flames first ascend, 
march to the Seraglio gate as if wdth aid. The affrighted 
guard will offer no opposition. While the troops secure 
the portals, you yourselves, Zalmunna, Abidan, and Jabas¬ 
ter, rush to the royal chamber and do the deed. In the 
meantime, let brave Scherirah, with his whole division, 
surround the palace, as if unconscious of the mighty 
work. Then come you forward, show, if it need, with 


182 


ALKOY. 


tears, tlie fated body to the soldiery, and announce the 
Theocracy.’ 

‘ It is the Lord who speaks,’ said Abidan, who was 
doubtless prepared for the proposition. ‘ He has delivered 
them into our hands.’ 

‘ A bold plan,’ said Jabaster, musing, ‘ and yet I like it. 
’Tis quick, and that is something. I think ’tis sure.’ 

‘ It cannot fail,’ exclaimed Zalmunna, ‘ for if the flame 
ascend not, still we are but where we were.’ 

‘ I am for it,’ said Scherirah. 

‘Well, then,’ said Jabaster, ‘so let it be. To-morrow’s 
eve will see us here again prepared. Good night.’ 

‘ Good night, holy Priest. How seem the stars, Jabaster ? ’ 

‘Very troubled; so have they been some days. What 
they portend I know not.’ 

‘ Health to Israel.’ 

‘ Let us hope so. Good night, sweet friends.’ 

‘ Good night, holy Jabaster. Thou art our corner-stone.’ 

‘ Israel hath no other hope but in Jabaster.’ 

‘ ]My Lord,’ said Abidan, ‘ remain, I pray, one moment.’ 

‘ What is’t ? I fain would go.’ 

‘ Alroy must die, my Lord, but dost thou think a single 
death will seal the covenant ? ’ 

‘ The woman?’ 

‘ Ay ! the woman! I was not thinking of the woman. 
Asrael, Ithamar, Medad ? ’ 

‘Valiant soldiers ! doubt not we shall find them useful 
instruments. I do not fear such loose companions. They 
follow their leaders, like other things born to obey. Having 
no head themselves, they must follow us who have.’ 

‘ I think so too. There is no other man who might be 
dangerous ? ’ 

Zalmunna and Scherirah cast their eyes upon the ground. 
There was a dead silence, broken by the prophetess. 

‘ A judgment hath gone forth against Honain ! ’ 

‘Hay! he is Lord Jabaster’s brother,’ said Abidan. ‘It 
is enough to save a more inveterate foe to Israel, if such 
there be.’ 


ALEOY. 


183 


‘ I have no brother, Sir. The man you speak of I will 
not slay, since there are others who may do that deed. And 
so again, good night.’ 


CHAPTER V. 

It was the dead of night, a single lamp burned in the cham¬ 
ber, which opened into an arched gallery that descended by 
a flight of steps into the gardens of the Serail. 

A female figure ascended the flight with slow and cautious 
steps. She paused on the gallery, she looked around, one 
foot was in the chamber. 

She entered. She entered a chamber of small dimensions, 
hut richly adorned. In the farthest corner was a couch of 
ivory, hung with a gauzy curtain of silver tissue, which, 
without impeding respiration, protected the slumberer from 
the fell insects of an Oriental night. Leaning against an 
ottoman was a large brazen shield of ancient fashion, and 
near it some helmets and curious weapons. 

‘ An irresistible impulse hath carried me into this cham¬ 
ber ! ’ exclaimed the prophetess. ‘ The light haunted me 
like a spectre; and wheresoever I moved, it seemed to 
summon me. 

‘A couch and a slumberer ! ’ 

She approached the object, she softly withdrew the cur¬ 
tain, Pale and panting, she rushed back, yet with a light 
step. She beheld Alroy! 

For a moment she leant against the wall, overpowered by 
her emotions. Again she advanced, and gazed on her 
unconscious victim. 

‘Can the guilty sleep like the innocent? Who would 
deem this gentle slumberer had betrayed the highest trust 
that ever Heaven vouchsafed to favoured man ? He looks 
not like a tyrant and a traitor: calm his brow, and mild liis 
placid breath ! His long dark hair, dark as the raven’s 
wing, hath broken from its fillet, and courses, like a wild 



184 


ALROY. 


and stormy niglit, over Lis pale and moon-lit brow. His 
cheek is delicate, and yet rej)Ose hath brought a flush ; and 
on his lip there seems some word of love, that will not quit 
it. It is the same Alroy that blessed our vision when, 
like the fresh and glittering star of morn, he rose up 
in the desert, and bringing joy to others, brought to me 
only- 

‘ Oh! hush my heart, and let thy secret lie hid in the 
charnel-house of crushed affections. Hard is the lot of 
woman: to love and to conceal is our sharp doom ! 0 bitter 
life ! 0 most unnatural lot! Man made society, and made 
ns slaves. And so we droop and die, or else take refuge in 
idle fantasies, to which we bring the fervour that is meant 
for nobler ends. 

‘ Beauteous hero! whether I bear thee most hatred or 
most love I cannot tell. Die thou must; yet I feel I should 
die with thee. Oh! that to-night could lead at the same 
time unto our marriage bed and funeral pyre. Must that 
white bosom bleed? and must those delicate limbs be hacked 
and handled by these bloody butchers ? Is that justice ? 
They lie, the traitors, when they call thee false to our God. 
Thou art thyself a god, and I could worship thee! See 
those beauteous lips ; they move. Hark to the music ! ’ 

‘ Schirene, Schirene ! ’ 

‘There wanted but that word to summon back my 
senses. Fool! whither is thy fancy wandering ? I will not 
wait for tardy justice. I will do the deed myself. Shall I 
not kill my Sisera ? ’ She seized a dagger from the ottoman, 
a rare and highly-tempered blade. Up she raised it in the 
air, and dashed it to his heart with superhuman force. It 
struck against the talisman which Jabaster had given to 
Alroy, and which, from a lingering superstition, he still wore; 
it struck, and shivered into a thousand pieces. The Caliph 
sprang from his couch; his eyes met the prophetess, standing 
over him in black despair, with the hilt of the dagger in her 
hand. 

‘ What is all this ? Schirene ! Who art thou ? Esther ! ’ 
He jumped from the couch, called to Pharez, and seized her 



ALROy, 185 

by botli bands. ‘ Speak ! ’ be continued. ‘Art tbou Esther ? 
Wbat dost tbou bere ? ’ 

Sbe broke into a wild laugb; slie wrestled witb bis grasp, 
and pulled him towards tbe gallery. He bebeld tbe chief 
tower of tbe Serail in flames. Joining her bands together, 
grasping them both in one of bis, and dragging her towards 
tbe ottoman, be seized a helmet and flung it upon tbe mighty 
shield. It sounded like a gong. Pharez started from bis 
slumbers, and rushed into tbe chamber. 

‘ Pharez ! Treason ! treason ! Send instant orders that 
tbe palace gates be opened on no pretence whatever. Go, 
fly! See tbe captain himself. Summon tbe household. 
Order all to arms. Speed, for our lives !’ 

Tbe whole palace was now roused. Alroy delivered 
Esther, exhausted, and apparently senseless, to a guard of 
eunuchs. Slaves and attendants poured in from all direc¬ 
tions. Soon arrived Sebirene, wutb dishevelled hair and 
hurried robes, attended by a hundred maidens, each bearing 
a torch. 

‘ My soul, what ails thee ? ’ 

‘ Nothing, sweetest; all will soon be well,’ replied Alroy, 
picking up, and examining the fragments of the shivered 
dagger, which he had just discovered. 

‘ My life has been attempted; the palace is in flames ; I 
suspect the city is in insurrection. Look to your mistress, 
maidens ! ’ Sebirene fell into their arms. ‘ I will soon be 
back.’ So saying, he hurried to the grand court. 

Several thousand persons, for the population of the Serail 
and its liberties was very considerable, were assembled in 
the grand court; eunuchs, women, pages, slaves, and ser¬ 
vants, and a few soldiers; all in confusion and alarm, fire 
raging within, and mysterious and terrible outcries without. 
A cry of ‘The Caliph ! the Caliph ! ’ announced the arrival 
of Alroy, and produced a degree of comparative silence. 

‘ Where is the captain of the guard ? ’ he exclaimed. 
‘ That’s well. Open the gates to none. Who will leap the 
wall, and bear a message to Asriel ? You ? That’s well too. 
To-morrow you shall yourself command. Where’s Mesrour ? 


186 


ALKOY. 


Take tlie eunucli guard and the company of gardeners,^® and 
suppress the flames at all cost. Pull down the intervening 
buildings. Abidan’s troop arrived with succour, eh! I 
doubt it not. I expected them. Open to none. They force 
an entrance, eh ! I thought so. So that javelin has killed 
a traitor. Feed me with arms. I’ll keep the gate. Send 
again to Asriel. Where’s Pharez ? ’ 

‘ By your side, my lord.’ 

‘ Bun to the Queen, my faithful Pharez, and tell her that 
all’s well. I wish it were ! Didst ever hear a din so awful ? 
Methinks all the tambours and cymbals of the city are in 
full .chorus. Foul play, I guess. Oh! for Asriel! Has 
Pharez returned ? ’ 

‘ I am by your side, my lord.’ 

‘ How’s the Queen ? ’ 

‘ She would gladly join your side.’ 

‘ No, no ! Keep the gates there. Who says they arc 
making fires before them ? ’Tis true. We must sally, if the 
worst come to the worst, and die at least like soldiers. 0 
Asriel! Asriel! ’ 

‘ May it please your Highness, the troops are pouring in 
from all quarters.’ 

‘ ’Tis Asriel.’ 

‘ No, your Highness, ’tis not the guard. Methinks they 
are Scherirah’s men.’ 

‘ Hum ! 'What it all is, I know not; but very foul play, 
I do not doubt. Where’s Honain ? ’ 

‘ With the Queen, Sire.’ 

‘ ’Tis well. What’s that shout ? ’ 

‘ Here’s the messenger from Asriel. Make way! way! 

‘Well! howis’t. Sir?’ 

‘ Please your Highness, I could not reach the guard.’ 

‘ Could not reach the guard ! God of my fathers ! who 
should lot thee ? ’ 

‘ Sire, I was taken prisoner.’ 

‘ Prisoner 1 By the thunder of Sinai, are we at war ? 
Wlio made thee prisoner ?’ 

‘ Sire, they liave proclaimed thy death.’ 


ALROY. 


187 


‘m.o?’ 

‘ The council of the Elders. So I heard. Abidan, Zal- 
munna-’ 

‘ Rebels and dogs ! Who else ? ’ 

‘ The High Priest.’ 

‘ Hah ! Is it there ? Pharez, fetch me some drink. Is it 
true Scherirah has joined them ? ’ 

‘ His force surrounds the Serail. Ho aid can reach us 
•without cutting through his ranks.’ 

‘ Oh ! that I •were there with my good guard ! Are we to 
die here hke rats, fairly murdered ? Cowardly knaves ! 
Hold out, hold out, my men ! ’Tis sharp work, but-some 
of us will smile at this hereafter. Who stands by Alroy 
to-night bravely and truly, shall have his heart’s content 
to-morrow. Fear not: I was not born to die in a civic 
broil. I bear a charmed life. So to it.’ 


CHAPTER VI. 

" Go to the Caliph, good Honain, I pray thee, go. I can sup¬ 
port myself, he needs thy counsel. Bid him not expose his 
precious life. The wicked men ! Asriel must soon be here. 
What sayest thou ? ’ 

‘ There is no fear. Their plans are ill-devised, I have 
long expected this stormy night, and feel even now more 
anxious than alarmed.’ 

‘ ’Tis at me they aim; it is I whom they hate. The High 
Priest, too ! Ay, ay! Thy proud brother, good Honain, 
I have ever felt he would not rest until he drove me from 
this throne, my right; or washed my hated name from out 
our annals in my life’s blood. Wicked, wicked Jabaster ! 
He frowned upon me from the first, Honain. Is he indeed 
thy brother ? ’ 

‘ I care not to remember. He aims at something further 
than thy life; but Time will teach us more than all our 
thoughts.’ 




188 


ALROy. 


CHAPTER VIT. 

The fortifications of tlie Serail resisted all tlie efforts of the 
rebels. Scherirah remained in his quarters, with his troops 
under arms, and recalled the small force that he had origi¬ 
nally sent out as much to watch the course of events as to 
assist Abidan. Asriel and Ithamar poured down their 
columns in the rear of that chieftain, and by dawn a divi¬ 
sion of the guard had crossed the river, the care of which 
had been entrusted to Scherirah, and had thrown themselves 
into the palace. Alroy sallied forth at the head of these 
fresh troops. His presence decided a result which was per¬ 
haps never doubtful. The division of Abidan fought with 
the desperation that became their fortunes. The carnage 
was dreadful, but their discomfiture complete. They no 
longer acted in masses, or with any general system. They 
thought only of self-preservation, or of selling their lives 
at the dearest cost. Some dispersed, some escaped. Others 
entrenched themselves in houses, others fortified the bazaar. 
All the hoiTors of war in the streets were now experienced. 
The houses were in flames, the thoroughfares flowed with 
blood. 

At the head of a band of faithful followers, Abidan 
proved himself, by his courage and resources, worthy of 
success. At length, he was alone, or surrounded only by 
his enemies. With his back against a building in a 
narrow street, where the number of his opponents only 
embarrassed them, the three foremost of his foes fell before 
his irresistible scimetar. The barricadoed door yielded to 
the pressure of the multitude. Abidan rushed up the 
narrow stairs, and, gaining a landing-place, turned sud¬ 
denly round, and cleaved the skull of his nearest pursuer. 
He hurled the mighty body at his followers, and, retarding 
their advance, himself dashed onward, and gained the 
terrace of the mansion. Three soldiers of the guard fol¬ 
lowed him as he bounded from terrace to terrace. One, 
armed with a javelin, hurled it at the chieftain. The 


ALTxOY. 


189 


weapon slightly wounded Abidan, who, drawing it from 
his arm, sent it back to the heart of its owner. The two 
other soldiers, armed only with swords, gained upon him. 
He arrived at the last terrace in the cluster of buildings. 
He stood at bay on the brink of the precipice. He re¬ 
gained his breath. They approached him. He dodged 
them in their course. Suddenly, with admirable skill, he 
flung his scimetar edgewise at the legs of his farthest foe, 
who stopped short, roaring with pain. The chieftain 
sprang at the foremost, and hurled him down into the 
street below, where he was dashed to atoms. A trap-door 
ofiered itself to the despairing eye of the rebel. He de¬ 
scended and found himself in a room filled with women. 
They screamed, he rushed tlirough them, and descending 
a staircase, entered a chamber tenanted by a bed-ridden 
old man. The ancient invalid inquired the cause of the 
uproar, and died of fright before he could receive an 
answer, at the sight of the awful being before him, covered 
with streaming blood. Abidan secured the door, washed 
his blood-stained face, and disguising himself in the dusty 
robes of the deceased Armenian, sallied forth to watch the 
fray. The obscure street was silent. The chieftain pro¬ 
ceeded unmolested. At the corner he found a soldier 
holding a charger for his captain. Abidan, unarmed, seized 
a poniard from the soldier’s belt, stabbed him to the heart, 
and vaulting on the steed, galloped towards the river. Ho 
boat was to be found ; he breasted the stream upon the 
stout courser. He reached the opposite bank. A com¬ 
pany of camels were reposing by the side of a fountain. 
Alarm had dispersed their drivers. He mounted the 
fleetest in appearance ; he dashed to the nearest gate of 
the city. The guard at the gate refused him a passage. 
He concealed his agitation. A marriage procession, re¬ 
turning from the country, arrived. He rushed into the 
centre of it, and overset the bride in her gilded waggon. 
In the midst of the confusion, the shrieks, the oaths, and the 
scuffle, he forced his way through the gate, scoured over the 
country, and never stopped until he had gained the desert. 


190 


ALKOY. 


CHAPTER YIII. 

The uproar died away. The shouts of warriors, tho 
shrieks of women, the wild clang of warfare, all were silent. 
The flames were extinguished, the carnage ceased. The 
insurrection was suppressed, and order restored. The- 
city, all the houses of which were closed, was patrolled by 
the conquering troops, and by sunset the conqueror him¬ 
self, in his hall of state, received the reports and the con¬ 
gratulations of his chieftains. The escape of Abidan 
seemed counterbalanced by the capture of Jabaster. After 
performing prodigies of valour, the High Priest had been 
overpowered, and was now a prisoner in the Serail. The 
conduct of Scherirah was not too curiously criticised; a 
commission was appointed to inquire into the mysterious 
aff’air, and Alroy retired to the bath 7’’ to refresh himself 
after the fatigues of the victory which he could not con¬ 
sider a triumph. 

As he reposed upon his couch, melancholy and exhausted, 
Schirene was announced. The Princess threw herself 
upon his neck and covered him with embraces. His heart 
yielded to her fondness, his spirit became lighter, his 
depression melted away. 

‘ My ruby! ’ said Schirene, and she spoke in a low 
smothered voice, her face hidden and nestled in his breast. 

‘ My ruby ! dost thou love me ? ’ 

He smiled in fondness as he pressed her to his heart. 

‘ My ruby, thy pearl is so frightened, it dare not look 
upon thee. Wicked men! ’tis I whom they hate, ’tis I 
whom they would destroy.’ 

‘ There is no danger, sweet. ’Tis over now. Speak not, 
nay, do not think of it.’ 

‘Ah! wicked men! There is no joy on earth while 
such things live. Slay Alroy, their mighty master, who, 
from vile slaves, hath made them princes ! Ungrateful 
cliurls! I am so alarmed, I ne’er shall sleep again. What! 
slay my innocent bird, my pretty bird, my very heart! I’ll 


ALliOY. 


191 


not believe it. It is I wbom they hate. I am sure they 
will kill me. You shall never leave me, no, no, no, no! 
You shall not leave me, love, never, never ! Didst hear a 
noise ? Methinks they are even here, ready to plunge their 
daggers in our hearts, our soft, soft hearts ! I* think you 
love me, child ; indeed, I think you do ! ’ 

‘ Take courage, heart! There is no fear, my soul; I 
cannot love thee more, or else I would.’ 

‘ All joy is gone ! I ne’er shall sleep again. 0 my soul! 
art thou indeed alive ? Do I indeed embrace my own Alroy, 
or is it all a wild and troubled dream, and are my arms 
clasped round a shadowy ghost, myself a spectre in a sepul¬ 
chre ? Wicked, wicked men ! Can it indeed be true? What, 
slay Alroy ! my joy, my only life ! Ah ! woe is me ; our 
bright felicity hath fled for ever ! ’ 

‘ Not so, sweet child ; we are but as we were. A few 
quick hours, and all will bo as bright as if no storm had 
crossed our sunny days.’ 

‘ Hast seen Asriel ? He says such fearful things ! ’ 

‘ How now ? ’ 

‘Ah me ! I am desolate. I have no friend.’ 

‘ Schirene ! ’ 

‘ They will have my blood. I know they will have my 
blood.’ 

‘ Indeed, an idle fancy.’ 

‘ Idle ! Ask Asriel, question Ithamar. Idle ! ’tis written 
in their tablets, their bloody scroll of rapine and of murder. 
Thy death led only to mine, and, had they hoped my bii*d 
would but have yielded his gentle mate, they would have 
spared him. Ay ! ay ! ’tis I whom they hate, ’tis I whom 
they would destroy. This form, I fear it has lost its lustre, 
but still ’tis thine, and once thou saidst thou lovedst it; 
this form was to have been hacked and mangled ; this ivory 
bosom was to have been ripped up and tortured, and this 
warm blood, that flows alone for thee, that fell Jabaster 
was to pour its tide upon the altar of his ancient vengeance. 
He ever hated me ! ’ 

‘ Jabaster ! Schirene! Where are we, and what are 


192 


ALROi*. 


we ? Life, life, they lie, that call thee Nature ! Nature 
never sent these gusts of agony. Oh ! my heart will 
break. I drove him from my thought, and now she calls 
him up, and now must I remember he is my—prisoner! God 
of heaven, God of my fathers, is it come to this ? Why did 
he not escape ? Why must Abidan, a common cut-throat, 
save his graceless life, and this great soul, this stern and 

mighty being-- Ah me! I have lived long enough. 

Would they had not failed, would-’ 

‘ Stop, stop, Alroy ! I pray thee, love, be calm. I came 
to soothe thee, not to raise thy passions. I did not say 
Jabaster willed thy death, though Asriel says so ; ’tis me 
he wars against; and if indeed Jabaster be a man so near 
thy heart, if he indeed be one so necessary to thy prosperity, 
and cannot live in decent order with thy slave that’s here, 
I know my duty. Sir. I would not have thy fortunes 
marred to save my single heart, although I think ’twill 
break. I will go, I will die, and deem the hardest accident 
of life but sheer prosperity if it profit thee.’ 

‘ O Schirene! what wouldst thou ? This, this is tor¬ 
ture.’ 

‘ To see thee safe and happy ; nothing more.’ 

‘ I am both, if thou art.’ 

‘ Care not for me, I am nothing.’ 

‘ Thou art all to me.’ 

‘ Calm thyself, my soul. It grieves me much that when 
I came to soothe I have only galled thee. All’s well, all’s 
well. Say that Jabaster lives. What then ? He lives, and 
may he prove more duteous than before ; that’s all.’ 

‘He lives, he is my prisoner, he awaits his doom. It 
must be given.’ 

‘ Yes, yes ! ’ 

‘ Shall we jDardon ? ’ 

‘ My lord will do that which it pleases him.’ 

‘ Nay, nay, Schirene, I pray f hee be more kind. I am 
most wretched. Speak, what wouldst thou ? ’ 

‘ If I must speak, I say at once his life.’ 

‘Ah me ! ’ 




ALROV. 


193 


‘ If our past loves liavo any charm, if the hope of futuro 
jo}’, not less supreme, be that which binds thee to this 
shadowy world, as it does me, and does alone, I say his 
life, his very carnal life. He stands between us and our 
loves, Alroy, and ever has done. There is no happiness 
if Jabaster breathe j nor can I be the same Schirene to 
thee as I have been, if this proud rebel live to spy my 
conduct.’ 

‘ Banish him, banish him ! ’ 

‘ To herd with rebels. Is tins thy policy? ’ 

‘ 0 Schirene ! I love not this man, although inethinks 
I should : yet didst thou know but all! ’ 

‘ I know too much, Alroy. From the first he has been 
to me a liateful thought. Come, come, sweet bird, a boon, 
a boon unto thy own Schirene, who was so frightened 
by these wicked men ! I fear it has done more mischief 
tlian thou deemest. Ay! robbed us of our hopes. It 
may be so. A boon, a boon ! It is not much I ask: a 
traitor’s head. Come, give me thy signet ring. It will 
not; nay, then. I'll take it. What, resist 1 I know thou 
oft hast told mo a kiss could vanquish all denial. There 
it is. Is’t sweet? Shalt have another, and another too. 
I’ve got the ring! Farewell, my lovely bird. I’ll soon 
return to pillow in thy nest.’ 


CHAPTER IX. 

‘ Sjie has got the ring! AVhat’s this? what’s this? 
Schirene ! art gone ? Nay, surely not. She jests. Jabas¬ 
ter ! A traitor’s head! What ho! there. Pliarez, 
Pharez ! ’ 

‘ jMy lord.’ 

‘ Passed the Queen that way? ’ 

‘ She did, my lord.’ 

‘ In tears? ’ 

‘ Xay! very jo^Tul! ’ 

‘ Call Honain, quick os my thought. Honnin ! TTonoinl 
0 



194 


ALKOY. 


He waits without. I have seen the best of life, that’s very 
sure. My heart is cracking. She surely jests! Hah! 
Honain. Pardon these distracted looks. Ply to the Ar¬ 
moury ! fly, fly ! ’ 

‘ For what, my lord ? ’ 

‘ Ay ! for what, for what! My brain it wanders. Thy 
brother, thy great brother, the Queen, the Queen has 
stolen my signet ring, that is, I gave it her. Fly, fly! 
or in a word, Jabaster is no more. He is gone. Pharez ! 
your arm ; I swoon ! ’ 


CHAPTER X. 

‘ Hts Highness is sorely indisposed to-day.’ 

‘ They say he swooned this morn.’ 

‘ Ay, in the bath.’ 

‘ No, not in the bath. ’Twas when he heard of Jabaster’s 
death.’ 

‘ How died he. Sir ? ’ 

‘ Self-strangled. His mighty heart could not endure 
disgrace, and thus he ended all his glorious deeds.’ 

‘ A great man ! ’ 

‘ We shall not soon see his match. The Queen had 
gained his pardon, and herself flew to the armoury to bear 
the news ; alas ! too late.’ 

‘ These are strange times. Jabaster dead ! ’ 

‘A very great event.’ 

‘ Who will be High Priest? ’ 

‘ I doubt if the appointment will be filled up. ’ 

‘ Sup you with the Lord Ithamar to-night? ’ 

‘ I do.’ 

‘ I also. We’ll go together. The Queen had gained his 
pardon. Hum ! ’tis strange,’ 

‘ Passing so. They say Abidan has escaped ? ’ 

‘ I hear it. Shall we meet Medad to-night? ’ 

‘ ’ Tis likely.’ 



ALKOY. 


195 


PART X. 


CHAPTER I. 

‘ She comes not yet! her cheerful form, not yet it 
sparkles in our mournful sky. She comes not yet! the 
shadowy stars seem sad and lustreless without their Qaeen. 
She comes not yet! ’ 

‘ We are the watchers op the Moon,"® and live in lone¬ 
liness TO herald light.’ 

‘ She comes not yet! her sacred form, not yet it summons 
to our holy feast. She comes not yet! our brethren far 
wait mute and motionless the saintly beam. She comes 
not yet! ’ 

‘We are the watchers of the Moon, and live in lone¬ 
liness TO herald light.’ 

‘ She comes, she comes ! her beauteous form sails with 
soft splendour in the glittering air. She comes, she comes ! 
The beacons 6re, and tell the nation that the month begins ! 
She comes, she comes ! ’ 

‘We are the watchers of the Moon, to tell the 

NATION THAT THE MONTH BEGINS.’ 

Instantly the holy watchers fired the beacons on the 
mountain top, and anon a thousand flames blazed round 
the land. From Caucasus to Lebanon, on every peak a 
crown of light. 


CHAPTER II. 

‘ Sire ! a Tatar has arrived from Hamadan, who will see 
none but thyself. I have told him your Highness was en¬ 
gaged, and sent him to the Lord Honain; but all denial is 

o 2 




ALTIOY. 


3 }:m3 


lost upon him. And as I tlionght perhaps the Lady 
Miriam-’ 

‘ From Hamadan ? Yon did well, Pliarez. Admit him.’ 

The Tatar entered. 

‘ Well, Sir; good news, I hope ! ’ 

‘ Sire, pardon me, the worst. I come from the Lord 
Abner, with orders to see the Caliph, and none else.’ 

‘Well, Sir, yon see the Caliph. Yonr mission? What 
of the Viceroy? ’ 

‘ Sire, he bade me tell thee, that, the moment the beacon 
that announced the Feast of the New Moon was fired on 
Cancasns, the dreaded monarch of Karasme, the great Alp 
Arslan, entered thy kingdom, and now overrnns all Persia.’ 

‘ Hah ! and Abner ? ’ 

‘ Is in the field, and prays for aid.’ 

‘ He shall have it. This is indeed great news ! When 
left yon Hamadan ? ’ 

‘Night and day I have journeyed upon the swiftest 
dromedary. The third morn sees me at Bagdad.’ 

‘ Yon have done your duty. See this faithful courier be 
well tended, Pliarez. Summon the Lord Honain.’ 

‘ Alp Arslan! Hah ! a very famous warrior. The 
moment the beacon Avas fired. No sudden impulse then, 
but long matured. I like it not.’ 

‘ Sire,’ said Pharez, re-entering, ‘ a Tatar has arrived 
from the frontiers of the i:)rovince, Avho Avill see none but 
thyself. I have told him your Highness Avas deeply busied, 
and as methinks he brings but the .same neAvs, I-” 

‘ ’Tis very likely; yet neA^er good Pharez. I’ll see 

the man.’ 

The Tatar entered. 

‘ Well, Sir, hoAV noAV ! from AA'hom ? ’ 

‘ From Mozul. The GoA'ernor bade me see the Caliph 
and none else, and tell your Highness, tliat the moment 
the beacon that announced the Feast of the NeAv Moon Avas 
fired on the mountains, the fell rebel Abidan raised the 
standard of Judah in the province, and proclaimed Avar 
against your ATajestyJ 


ALTIOY. 


197 


‘ Ill any force? ’ 

‘ The royal power keeps within their walls.’ 

‘ Sufiicient answer. Part of the same movement. AVe 
shall have some trouble. Hast summoned Honain ? ’ 

‘ I have, Sir.’ 

‘ Go, see this messenger be duly served, and, Pharez, 
come hither: let none converse with them. You under¬ 
stand ? ’ 

‘ Your Highness may assure yourself.’ 

‘ Abidan come to life. He shall not escape so well this 

time. I must see Scherirah. I much suspect-what’s 

this? More news ! ’ 

A third Tatar entered. 

‘ May it please your Highness, this Tatar has arrived 
from the Syrian frontier.’ 

‘ Mischief in the wind, I doubt not. Speak out, knave ! ’ 

‘ Sire ! pardon me ; I bear but sad intelligence.’ 

‘ Out with the worst! ’ 

‘ I come from the Lord Medad.’ 

‘ Well! has he rebelled? It seems a catching fever.’ 

‘ Ah ! no, dread Sire, Lord Medad has no thought but 
for thy glory. Alas ! alas! he has now to gniard it against 
fearful odds. Lord Medad bade me see the Caliph and 
none else, and tell your Highness, that the moment the 
beacon which announced the Feast of the Hew Moon was 
fired on Lebanon, the Sultan of Roum and the old Arabian 
Caliph unfurled the standard of their Prophet, in great 
array, and are now marching towards Bagdad.’ 

‘ A clear conspiracy ! Has Honain arrived? Summon a 
council of the Vizirs instantly. The world is up against 
me. Well! I’m sick of peace. They shall not find mo 
napping ! ’ 


CHAPTER III. 

‘You see, my lords,’ said Alroy, ere the council broke 
up, ‘we must attack them singly. There can be no doubt 
of that. If they join, we must combat at great odds. ’Tis 



198 


ALROY. 


in detail that we must rout them. I will myself to Persia. 
Ithamar must throw himself between the Sultan and 
Abidan, Medad fall back on Ithamar. Scherirah must 
guard the capital. Honain, you are Regent. And so fare¬ 
well. I shall set off to-night. Courage, brave companions. 
’Tis a storm, but many a cedar survives the thunderbolt.’ 

The council broke up. 

‘ My own Scherirah ! ’ said the Caliph, as they retired, 

‘ stay awhile. I would speak with you alone. Honain,’ 
continued Alroy, following the Grand Vizir out of the 
chamber, and leaving Scherirah alone, ‘ Honain, I have 
not yet interchanged a word with you in private. What 
think you of all this? ’ 

‘ Sire, I am prepared for the worst, but hope the best.’ 

‘ ’Tis wise. If Abner could only keep that Karasraian 
in check ! I am about to speak with Scherirah alone. I do 
suspect him much.’ 

‘ I’ll answer for his treason.’ 

‘ Hah! I do suspect him. Therefore I give him no 
command. I would not have him too near his old com¬ 
panion, eh? We will garrison the city with his rebels.’ 

‘ Sire, these are not moments to be nice. Scherirah is a 
valiant captain, a very valiant captain, but lend me thy 
signet ring, I pray thee. Sire.’ 

Alroy turned pale. 

‘ No, Sir, it has left me once, and never shall again. 
You have touched upon a string that makes me sad. There 
is a burden on my conscience, why, or what, I know not. 
I am innocent, you know I am innocent, Honain ! ’ 

‘ I’ll answer for your Highness. He who has enough of 
the milk of human kindness to spare a thing like Scherirah, 
when he stands in his way, may well be credited for the 
nobler mercy that spared his better.’ 

‘ Ah me ! there’s madness in the thought. Why is ho 
not here ? Had I but followed ; tush! tush ! Go see 
the Queen, and tell her all that has happened. I’ll to 
Scherirah.’ 

The Caliph returned. 


ALEOY. 


199 


‘ Tliy pardon, brave Scbeiirab ; in these moments my 
fiiends will pardon lapse of courtesy.’ 

‘ Your Highness is too considerate.’ 

‘Yon see, Scherirah, how the wind blows, brave heart. 
There’s much to do, no doubt. I am in sad want of some 
right trusty friend, on whose devoted bosom I can pillow 
all my necessities. ^ I was thinking of sending you against 
this Arslan, but perhaps ’tis better that I should go myself. 
These are moments one should not seem to shrink, and yet 
we know not how affairs may run ; no, we know not. The 
capital, the surrounding province : one disaster and these 
false Moslemin may rise against us. I should stay here, but 
if I leave Scherirah, I leave myself. I feel that deeply ; ’tis 
a consolation. It may be that I must fall back upon the 
city. Be prepared, Scherirah. Let me fall back upon 
supporting friends. You have a great trust. Oh ! use it 
wisely ! Worthily I am sure you must do.’ 

‘ Your Highness may rest assured I have no other thought 
but for your weal and glory. Doubt not my devotion. Sire. 
I am not one of those mealy-mouthed youths, full of their 
own deeds and lip-worship. Sire, but T have a life devoted 
to your service, and ready at all times to peril all things.’ 

‘ I know that, Scherirah, I know it; I feel it deeply. 
What think you of these movements? ’ 

‘They are not ill combined, and yet I doubt not your 
Alajesty will prove your fortunes most triumphant.’ 

‘ Think you the soldiery are in good cue ? ’ 

‘ I’ll answer for my own. They are rough fellows, like 
myself, a little too blunt, perhaps, your Highness. We are 
not holiday guards, but we know our duty, and we will do 
it.’ 

‘ That’s well, that’s all I want. I shall review the troops 
before I go. Let a donative be distributed among them; 
and, by the bye, I have always forgotten it, your legion 
should be called the Legion of Syria. We owe our fairest 
l^rovince to their anns.’ 

‘I shall convey to them your Highness’ wish. Were it 
possible, ’twonld add to their devotion.’ 


200 


ALKOV. 


‘ I do not \Msli it. They are my very children. Sup at 
the Semil to-night, Scherirah. We shall bo very private. 
Yet let us drink together ere we part. We are old friends, 
you know. Hast not forgotten our ruined citA c' 


CHAPTER IV. 

Alroy entered the apartment of Schirene. ‘^fy soul! 
thou knowest all? ’ 

She sprang forward and threw her arms around his 
neck. 

‘ Fear not, my life, weTl not disgrace our Queen. ’Twill 
be cpiick work. Two-thirds of them have been beaten 
before, and for the new champion, our laurels must not 
fade, and his blood shall nourish fresh ones.’ 

‘ Dearest, dearest Alroy, go not thyself, I pray thee. 
Alay not Asriel conquer? ’ 

‘ I hope so, ill my company. For a time we part, a short 
one. ’Tis our first parting : may it be our last! ’ 

‘ Oh ! no, no, no : oh ! say not Ave must part.’ 

‘ The troops are under arms; to-morrow’s dawn will 
hear my trumpet.’ 

‘I will not quit thee, no ! I Avill not quit thee. What 
business has Schirene without Alroy ? Hast thou not 
often told me I am thy inspiration? In the hour of danger 
shall I be wanting? Never! I Avill not quit thee; no, I 
Avill not quit thee.’ 

‘ Thou art ever present in my thoughts, my soul. In the 
battle I shall think of her for Avhom alone I conquer.’ 

‘Nay, nay, ITl go, indeed I must, Alroy. I’ll be no 
hindrance, trust me, SAveet boy, I Avill not. ITl have no 
train, no, not a single maid. Credit me, I know hoAV a 
true soldier’s Avife should bear herself. I’ll Avatch thee 
sleeping, and I’ll tend thee Avoundod, and when thou goest 
forth to combat I’ll gird thy sabre round thy martial side, 
and AA'hisper triumph Avith victorious kisses.’ 




ALllOY. 


L>01 


‘ My own Scliirene, tliere’s victory in tliiiie eyes. We’ll 
beat them, girl.’ 

‘ Abidan, doubly false Abidan ! v;ould he were doubly 
luinged! Ere she died, the fatal prophetess foretold this 
time, and gloated on his future treachery.’ 

‘ Think not of him.’ 

‘ And the Karasmian ; think you he is very strong?’ 

‘ Enough, love, for our glory. He is a potent warrior: I 
trust that Abner Avill not rob us of our intended victoi-y.’ 

‘ So you triumph, I care not by Avhose sword. Dost go 
indeed to-morrow ? ’ 

‘ At break of dawn. I pray thee stay, my sweet! ’ 

‘ XeA^er! I will not quit thee. I am quite prepared. 
At break of daAvn ? ’Tis near on midnight now. I’ll lay 
me down upon this couch awhile, and travel in my litter. 
Art sure Alp Arslan is himself in the field? ’ 

‘ Quite sure, my sweet.’ 

‘ Confusion on his crown ! We’ll conquer. Goes Asriel 
Avith us ? ’ 

‘Ay! ’ 

‘ That’s Avell; at break of daAvn. I’m someAvhat droAvsy. 
Methinks I’ll sleep aAvhile.’ 

‘ Do, my best heart; I’ll to my cabinet, and at break of 
dav/n I’ll wake thee with a kiss.’ 


CHAPTER V. 

Ti[E Caliph repaired to his cabinet, where his secretaries 
Avero occupied in AAU’iting. As he paced the chamber, ho 
dictated to them the necessary instructions. 

‘ Who is the officer on guard ? ’ 

‘ Benaiah, Sire.’ 

‘ I remember him. He saved me a broken skull upon 
the Tigris. This is for him. The Queen accompanies us. 
She is his charge. These papers for the Vizir. Let tho 
troops be under arms by daybreak. This order of the day 
for the Lord Asriel. Send this instantly to Hamadan. Is 



202 


ALROY. 


the Tatar despatched to Medad? ’Tis well. You have 
done your duty. Now to rest. Pharez ? ’ 

‘ My lord.’ 

‘ I shall not sleep to-night. Give me my drink. Go 
rest, good boy. I have no wants. Good night.’ 

‘ Good night, ray gracious lord ! ’ 

‘ Let me ponder ! 1 am alone. I am calm, and yet my 

spirit is not quick. I am not what I was. Four-and- 
twenty hours ago who would have dreamed of this ‘f All at 
stake again ! Once more in the field, and struggling at 
once for empire and existence ! I do lack the mighty 
spirit of my former days. I am not what 1 was. I have 
little faith. All about me seems changed, and dull, and 
grown mechanical. Where are those flashing eyes and 
conquering visages that clustered round me on the battle 
eve, round me, the Lord’s anointed? 1 see none such. 
They are changed, as I am. Why! this Abidan was a 
host, and now he fights against me. She spoke of the 
prophetess; I remember that woman was the stirring 
trumpet of our ranks, and now where is she ? The victim 
of my justice ! And where is he, the mightier far, the 
friend, the counsellor, the constant guide, the master of 
my boyhood ; the firm, the fond, the faithful guardian of 
all my bright career; whose days and nights were one 
unbroken study to make me glorious ? Alas ! I feel more 
like a doomed and desperate renegade than a young hero 
on the eve of battle, flushed with the memory of unbroken 
triumphs ! 

‘ Hah! what awful form art thou that risest from the 
dusky earth before me? Thou shouldst be one I dare not 
name, yet will: the likeness of Jabaster. Away ! why 
frownest thou upon me ? J did not slay thee. Do I live, 
or dream, or what ? I see him, ay ! I see thee. I fear 
thee not, I fear nothing. I am Alroy. 

‘ Speak, oh speak 1 I do conjure thee, mighty spectre, 
speak. By all the memory of the past, although ’tis mad¬ 
ness, I do conjure thee, let me hear again the accents of 
my boyhood.’ 


ALROY. 


203 


‘ Alroy, Alroy, Alroy ! ’ 

‘ I listen, as to tlie last trump.’ 

‘Meet me on the plain of Nehauend.’ 

‘ ’Tis gone ! As it spoke it vanisked. It was Jabaster ! 
God of my fathers, it was Jabaster ! Life is growing too 
wild. My courage is broken ! 1 could lie down and die. 

It was Jabaster ! The voice sounds in my ear like distant 
thunder: “ Jleei me on the plain of Nehauend.'^ I’ll not 
fail thee, noble ghost, although I meet my doom. Jabaster ! 
Have I seen Jabaster ! Indeed ! indeed ! Methinks I’m 
mad. Hah ! What’s that ? ’ 

An awful clap of thunder broke over the palace, followed 
by a strange clashing sound that seemed to come from one 
of the chambers. The walls of the Serail rocked. 

‘An earthquake!’ exclaimed Alroy. ‘Would that the 
earth would open and swallow all! Hah! Pharez, has it 
roused thee, too ? Pharez, we live in strange times.’ 

‘ Your Highness is very pale.’ 

‘ And so art thou, lad ! Wouldst have me merry ? Pale ! 
we may well be pale, didst thou know all. Hah ! that 
awful sound again ! I cannot bear it, Pharez, I cannot 
bear it. I have borne many things, but this I cannot.’ 

‘ My loi-d, ’tis in the Armoury.’ 

‘Run, see. No, I’ll not be alone. Where’s Benaiah ? 
Let him go. Stay with me, Pharez, stay with me. I pray 
thee stay, my child.’ 

Pharez led the Caliph to a couch, on which Alroy lay 
pale and trembling. In a few minutes he inquired whether 
Benaiah had returned. 

‘ Even now he comes, Sire.’ 

‘ Well, how is it? ’ 

‘ Sire ! a most awful incident. As the thunder broke 
over the palace, the sacred standard fell from its resting- 
place, and has shivered into a thousand pieces. Strange 
to say, the sceptre of Solomon can neither be found nor 
traced.’ 


204 


ALKOY. 


‘ Say nothing of the past as ye love me, lads. Let none 
cuter the Armoury. Leave me, Benaiah, leave me, Pharez.’ 

They retired. Alroy watched their departure with a 
glance of inexpressible anguish. T’he moment that they 
laid disappeared, he flew to the couch, and throwing himself 
upon his knees, and, covering his face with his hands, burst 
into passionate tears, and exclaimed, ‘ 0 ! my God, I have 
deserted thee, and now thou hast deserted me ! ’ 


CHAPTER VI. 

Sleep crept over the senses of the exhausted and 
desperate Caliph. He threw himself upon the divan, and 
was soon buried in profound repose. He might have slept 
an hour; he awoke suddenly. From the cabinet in which 
he slept, you entered a vast hall, through a lofty and 
spacious arch, generally covered with drapery, which was 
now withdrawn. To the astonishment of Alroy, this pre¬ 
sence-chamber appeared at this moment to blaze with light. 
He rose from his couch, he advanced; he perceived, with 
feelings of curiosity and fear, that the hall was filled with 
beings, terrible indeed to behold, but to his sight more 
terrible than strange. In the colossal and mysterious forms 
that lined the walls of the miglity chamber, and each of 
which held in its extended arm a streaming torch, ho 
recognised the awful Afrites. At the end of the hall, npon 
a sumptuous throne, surrounded by priests and courtiers, 
there was seated a monarch, on whom Alroy had before 
gazed, Solomon the Great! Alroy beheld him in state and 
semblance the same Solomon, whose sceptre the Prince of 
the Captivity had seized in the royal tombs of Judah. 

The strange assembly seemed perfectly unconscious of 
the presence of the child of Earth, who, with a desperate 
courage, leant against a column of the^ arch, and watched, 
with wonder, their mute and motionless society. Hothing 
was said, nothing done. Ho one moved, no one, even by 



ALROY, 


205 


gesture, seemed sensible of the presence of any other 
apparition sav'e himself. 

Suddenly there advanced from the bottom of the hall, 
near unto Alroy, a procession. Pages and dancing girls, 
•with eyes of fire and voluptuous gestures, warriors with 
mighty arms, and venerable forms with ample robes and 
flowing beards. And, as they passed, even with all the 
activity of their gestures, they made no sound ; neither did 
the musicians, whereof there was a great band playing 
upon harps and psalteries, and timbrels and cornets, break, 
in the slightest degree, the almighty silence. 

This great crowd poured on in beautiful order, the 
procession never terminating, 3 ’et passing thrice round the 
hall, bowing to him that was upon the throne, and ranging 
themselves in ranks before the Afrites. 

And there came in twelve forms, l)earing a great seal: 
the stone green, and the engraven characters of living 
flame, and the characters w’ere those on the talisman of 
dabaster, which Alroy still wore next to his heart. And 
the twelve forms placed the great seal before Solomon, and 
humbled themselves, and the King bowed. At the same 
moment Alroy was sensible of a pang next to his heart. 
He instantly put his hand to the sufiering spot, and lo ! 
the talisman crumbled into dust. 

The procession ceased ; a single form advanced. Recent 
experience alone prevented Alroy from sinking before the 
spectre of Jabaster. Such was the single form. It ad¬ 
vanced, bearing the scejdre. It advanced, it knelt before 
the throne, it offered the sceptre to the crowned and solemn 
vision. And the form of Solomon extended its arm, and 
took the sceptre, and instautl^r the mighty assembl}' 
vanished ! 

Alroy advanced immediately into the chamber, but all 
was dark and silent. A trumpet sounded. He recognised 
the note of his own soldiery. He groped his wiiy to a 
curtain, and, pulling it aside, beheld the first streak of 
dawn. 


206 


AliROY. 


CHAPTER Vn. 

Once more upon liis cEarger, once more surrounded by 
Lis legions, once more his senses dazzled and inflamed by 
the waving banners and the inspiring trumpets, once more 
conscious of the power still at his command, and the 
mighty stake for which he was about to play, Alroy in a 
great degree recovered his usual spirit and self-possession. 
His eriergy returned with his excited pulse, and the vast¬ 
ness of the impending danger seemed only to stimulate the 
fertility of his genius. 

He pushed on by forced marches towards Media, at the 
head of fifty thousand men. At the end of the second 
day’s march, fresh couriers arrived from Abner, informing 
him that, unable to resist the valiant and almost innumer¬ 
able host of the King of Karasme, he had entirely evacuated 
Persia, and had concentrated his forces in Louristan. 
Alroy, in consequence of this information, desj)atched 
orders to Scherirah, to join him with his division instantly, 
and leave the capital to its fate. 

They passed again the mountains of Kerrund, and joined 
Abner and the army of Media, thirty thousand strong, on 
the river Abzah. Here Alroy rested one night, to refresh 
his men, and on the ensuing morn pushed on to the Persian 
frontier, unexpectedly attacked the advanced posts of Alp 
Arslan, and beat them back wdth great loss into the pro¬ 
vince. But the force of the King of Karasme was so con¬ 
siderable, that the Caliph did not venture on a general 
engagement, and therefore he fell back, and formed in 
battle array upon the neighbouring plain of Nehauend, the 
theatre of one of his earliest and most brilliant victories, 
where he awaited the hourly-expected arrival of Scherirah. 

The King of Karasme, who was desirous of bringing 
affairs to an issue, and felt confident in his superior force, 
instantly advanced. In two or three days at fui-tbest, it 
was evident that a battle must be fought that would decide 
the fate of the East, 


ALROY. 


207 


On the mom ensuing their arrival at Nehanend, while 
the Caliph was out hunting, attended only by a few officers, 
he was suddenly attacked by an ambushed band of Karas- 
mians. Alroy and his companions defended themselves 
with such desperation that they at length succeeded in 
beating off their assailants, although triple their number. 
The leader of the Karasmians, as he retreated, hurled a 
dart at the Caliph, which must have been fatal, had not a 
young officer of the guard interposed his own breast, and 
received the deadly wound. The party, in confusion, 
returned with all speed to the camp, Alroy himself bearing 
the expiring victim of desperate loyalty and military 
enthusiasm. 

The bleeding officer was borne to the royal pavilion, and 
placed upon the imperial couch. The most skilful leech 
was summoned; he examined the wound, but shook his 
head. The dying warrior was himself sensible of his 
desperate condition. His agony could only be alleviated 
by withdra^ving the javelin, which would occasion his 
immediate decease. He desired to be left alone with his 
Sovereign. 

‘ Sire ! ’ said the officer, ‘ I must die ; and I die without 
a pang. To die in your service, I have ever considered the 
most glorious end. Destiny has awarded it to me ; and if 
I have not met my fate upon the field of battle, it is some 
consolation that my death has preserved the most valuable 
of lives. Sire ! I have a sister.’ 

‘ Waste not thy strength, dear friend, in naming her. 
Rest assured I shall ever deem thy relatives my own.’ 

‘ I doubt it not. Would I had a thousand lives for sucb 
a master ! I have a burden on my conscience, Sire, nor 
can I die in peace unless I speak of it.’ 

‘ Speak, speak freely. If thou hast injured any one, and 
the power or wealth of Alroy can redeem thy oppressed 
spirit, he will not spare, he will not spare, be assured of 
that.’ 

‘Noble, noble master, I must be brief; for, although, 
while this javelin rests within my body, I yet may live, the 


208 


alhoy. 


figoiiy is great. Sire, the deed of which I speak doth 
concern thee.’ 

‘ Ay! ’ 

‘ I was on guard the day Jabaster died.’ 

‘ Powers of heaven! I am all ear. Speak on, speak 
on! ’ 

‘ He died self-strangled, so they say r ’ 

‘ So they over told mo.’ 

‘ Thou art innocent, thou art innocent! I thank my 
God, my King is innocent! ’ 

‘ Rest assured of that, as tliere is hope in Israel. Tell 
me all.’ 

‘ Tlie Queen came with the signet ring. To such au¬ 
thority I yielded way. She entered, and after her, the 
Lord Honain. I heard high words ! I heard Jabaster’s 
voice. He struggled, yes ! he struggled; but his mighty 
form, wounded and fettered, could not long resist. Foul 
play, foul play. Sire! What could I do against such 
adv'ersaries ? They left the chamber with a stealthy step. 
Her eyes met mine. I never could forget that fell and 
glittering visage.’ 

‘ Thou ne’er hast spoken of this awful end? ’ 

‘ To none but thee. And why I .speak it now I cannot 
toll, save that it seems some inspiration urges me ; and 
methinks they who did this may do even feller works, if 
such there be.’ 

‘Thou hast robbed mo of all peace and hope of peace; 
and yet I thank thee. Kow I know the worth of life. 
I have never loved to think of that sad day; and j^et, 
though I have sometimes dreamed of villainous w ork, the 
worst were innocence to thy dread tale.’ 

‘ ’Tis told; and now I pray thee secure thy secret, hy 
drawing from my agonised frame this javelin.’ 

‘ Trusty heart, ’tis a sad office.’ 

‘I die with joy if thou performest it.’ 

‘ ’Tis done.’ 

‘ God save Alroy.’ 


ALKOY. 


200 


CHAPTEK VIIL 

While Alroy, plunged in thought, stood over the body 
of the ofiicer, there arose a flourish of triumphant music, 
and a eunuch, entering the pavilion, announced the arrival 
of Schirene from Kerrund. Almost immediately after¬ 
wards, the Princess, descending from her litter, entered 
the tent; Alroy tore off' his robe, and threw it over the 
corpse. 

‘ My own,’ exclaimed the Princess, as she ran up to the 
Caliph. ‘ I have heard all. Be not alarmed for me. I 
dare look upon a corpse. You know E am a soldier’s bride. 
I am used to blood.’ 

‘ Alas ! ’ 

‘ Why so pale ? Thou dost nob kiss me! Has this 
unhinged thee so? ’Tis a sad deed ; and yet to-morrow’s 
dawn may light np thousands to as grim a ffite. Why? 
thou tremblest! Alas ! kind soul! The single death of 
this fond, faithful heart, hath quite upset my love. Yet 
art thou used to battle. Why ! this is foolishness. Art 
not glad to see me ? What, not one smile ! And I have 
come to fight for thee ! I will be kissed! ’ 

She flung herself upon his neck. Alroy faintly returned 
her embrace, and bore her to a couch. He clapped his 
hands, and two soldiers entered and bore away the corpse. 

‘ The pavilion, Schirene, is now fitter for thy presence. 
Best thyself; I shall soon return.’ Thus speaking, he 
quitted her. 

He quitted her; but her humbled look of sorrowful 
mortification pierced to his heart. He thought of all her 
love and all her loveliness, he called to mind all the 
marvellous story of their united fortunes. He felt that for 
her and her alone he cared to live, that Avithout her quick 
sympathy, even success seemed unendurable. His judg¬ 
ment fluctuated in an eddy of passion and reason. Passion 
conquered. He dismissed from his intelligence all cogni¬ 
zance of good and oauI ; he determined, under all circiim- 

V 


210 


ALKOY. 


stances, to cling ever to her; he tore from his mind all 
memory of the late disclosure. He returned to the pavilion 
with a countenance beaming with affection; he found her 
weeping, he folded her in his arms, he kissed her with a 
thousand kisses, and whispered between each kiss his 
ardent love. 


CHAPTER IX. 

*Twas midnight. Schirene reposed in the arms of Alroy. 
The Caliph, who was restless and anxious for the ari-ival of 
Sclierirah, was scarcely slumbering, when the sound of a 
voice thoroughly aroused him. He looked around; he 
beheld the spectre of Jabaster. His hair stood on end, his 
limbs seemed to loosen, a cold dew crept over his frame, as 
he gazed upon the awful form within a yard of his couch. 
Unconsciously he disembarrassed his arms of their fair 
burden, and, rising on the couch, leant forward. 

‘ Alroy, Alroy, Alroy ! ’ 

‘ I am here.’ 

‘ To-morrow Israel is avenged ! ’ 

‘ Who is that ? ’ exclaimed the Princess, wakening. 

In a frenzy of fear, Alroy, quite forgetting the spectre, 
turned and pressed his hand over her eyes. When he 
again looked round, the apparition was invisible 

‘ What wouldst thou, Alroy ? ’ 

‘ Nothing, sweet! A soldier’s wife must bear strange 
sights, yet I would save you some. One of my men, 
forgetful you were here, burst into my tent in such a guise 
as scarce would suit a female eye. I must away, my child. 
I’ll call thy slaves. One kiss! Farewell! but for a time.’ 


CHAPTER X. 

* “ To-morrow Israel will be avenged.” What! in Ka- 
rasmian blood? I have no faith. No matter. All is now 




ALIiOY. 


211 


beyond my influence. A rushing destiny carries me on¬ 
ward. I cannot stem the course, nor guide the vessel. 
How now ! Who is the ofiScer on guard? * 

‘ Benomi, Sire, thy servant.’ 

‘ Send to the Viceroy. Bid him meet me here. Who 
is this ? ’ 

‘ A courier from the Lord Scherirah, Sire, but just 
arrived. He passed last night the Kerrund mountains. 
Sire, and will be with you by the break of day.’ 

‘ Good news. Go fetch Abner. Haste ! He’ll find me 
here anon. I’ll visit the camp awhile. Well, my brave 
fellows, you have hither come to conquer again with Alroy. 
You have fought before, I warrant, on the plain of Nehau- 
end. ’Tis a rich soil, and shall be richer with Karasmian 
gore.’ 

‘ God save your Ma,jesty ! Our lives are thine.’ 

‘ Please you, my little ruler,’ said a single soldier, ad¬ 
dressing Alroy; ‘ pardon my bluntness, but I knew you 
before you were a Caliph.’ 

‘ Stout heart, I like thy freedom. Pr’ythee say on.’ 

‘ I was a-saying, I hope you will lead us in the charge 
to-morrow. Some say you will not.’ 

‘ They say falsely.’ 

‘ I thought so. I’ll ever answer for my little ruler, but 
then the Queen ? ’ 

‘ Is a true soldier’s wife, and lives in the camp.’ 

‘ That’s brave! There, I told you so, comrades; you 
would not believe me, but I knew our little ruler before 
you did. I lived near the gate at Hamadan, please your 
Highness : old Shelomi’s son.’ 

‘ Give me thy hand; a real friend. What is’t ye eat 
here, boys ? Let me taste your mess. I’faith I would my 
cook could dress me such a pilau ! ’Tis admirable! ’ 

The soldiers gathered round their chieftain with eyes 
beaming with adoration. ’Twas a fine picture, the hero in 
the centre, the various grou[)s around, some conversing 
with him, some cooking, some making coffee, all offering 
him by word or deed some testimonial of their devotioii. 


212 


AUlOY. 


and blending ’with tliafc devotion tlio most perfect frank¬ 
ness. 

‘ We shall beat them, lads ! ’ 

‘ There is on fear ’with you, you always beat.’ 

‘ I do my best, and so do a’ou. A good general without 
good troops is little ’worth.’ 

‘ I’faith that’s true. One must have good troops. What 
think you of Alp iki’slan ? ’ 

‘ I think he may give iis as much trouble as all our 
other enemies together, and that’s not much.’ 

‘ Brave, brave ! God save Alroy ! ’ 

Benomi approached, and announced that the Viceroy 
was in attendance. 

‘I must quit you, my children,’ said Alroy. ‘We’ll sup 
once more together when we have conquered.’ 

‘ God save you, Sire ; and we wdll confound your ene¬ 
mies.’ 

‘ Good night, my lads. Ere the dawn break v^e may 
have hot work.’ 

‘ We are ready, we are ready. God save Alroy.’ 

‘ They are in good cue, and yet ’tw^as a difierent spirit 
that inspired our early days. That I strongly feel. These 
are men true to a leader who has never failed them, and 
confident in a cause that leads to plunder. They are but 
splendid mercenaries. No more. Oh! where are now the 
fighting men of Judah! AVhere are the men who, when 
they drew tlieir scimetars, joined in a conquering psalm of 
holy triumph I Last eve of battle you ’would have thought 
the field a mighty synagogue. Priests and altars, flaming 
sacrifices, and smoking censers, groups of fiery zealots 
hanging with frenzy on prophetic lips, and sealing with 
their blood and holiest vows a solemn covenant to conquer 
Canaan. All is changed, as I am. How now, Abner ? 
You are well muffled 1 ’ 

‘ Is it time Scherirah is at hand? ’ 

* I doubt not all is right. Would that the dawn would 
break 1 ’ 

‘ J’he enemy is advancing. Some of their columns aro 


AIJIOV. 


213 


in slg-lih Afy scouts have dodged tliem. They intend 
doubtless to form upon the idain.’ 

‘ ai’G in sigid, eh ! Then we will attack them at 
once ere they are formed. Rare, rare ! We’ll beat them 
yet. Courage, dear brother. Scherirah will be here at 
dawn in good time, very good time : very, very good time.’ 

‘ I like the thought.’ 

‘ The men are in good heart. At break of dawn, charge 
with thirty thousand cavalry upon their forming ranks. 
I’ll take the right, Asriel the left. It shall be a family 
affair, dear Abner. How is Miriam ? ’ 

‘ I heard this morn, quite well. She sends you her lovo 
and prayers. The Queen is here ? ’ 

‘ She came this eve. Quite well.’ 

‘ She must excuse all courtesy.’ 

‘ Say nothing. She is a soldier’s wife. She loves thee 
well, dear Abner.’ 

‘ I know that. I hoi^e my sword may guard her children’s 
throne.’ 

‘ Well, give thy orders. Instant battle, eh ? 

‘ Indeed I think so.’ 

‘ I’ll send couriers to hurry Scherirah. All looks well. 
Reserve the guard.’ 

‘ Ay, ay ! Farewell, dear Sire. When we meet again, 
I trust your enemies may be your slaves ! ’ 


CHAPTER XL 

At the first streak of dawn the Hebrew cavalry, with 
the exception of the guard, charged the advancing columns 
of the Karasmians with irresistible force, and cut them in 
pieces. Alp Arslan rallied his troops, and at length 
succeeded in forming his main body in good order. Alroy 
and Asriel led on their divisions, and the battle now became 
general. It raged for several hours, and was on both sides 
well maintained. The slaughter of the Karasmians was 
great, but their sterji character and superior numbers 



214 


ALROY. 


counterbalanced for a time all the impetuosity of the 
Hebrews and all the energy of their leaders. This day 
Alroy threw into the shade all his former exploits. Twelve 
times he charged at the head of the Sacred Guard, and more 
than once penetrated to the very pavilion of Alp Arslan. 

In vain he endeavoured singly, and hand to hand, to 
meet that famous chieftain. Both monarchs fought in the 
ranks, and yet Fate decided that their scimetars should 
never cross. Four hours before noon, it was evident to 
Alroy, that, unless Scherirah arrived, he could not prevail 
against the vast superiority of numbers. He was obliged 
early to call his reserve into the field, and although the 
number of the slain on the side of Arslan exceeded any in 
the former victories of the Hebrews, still the Karasmians 
maintained an immense front, which was constantly supplied 
by fresh troops. Confident in his numbers, and aware of 
the weakness of his antagonists, Arslan contented himself 
with acting on the defensive, and wearying his assailants 
by resisting their terrible and repeated charge. 

For a moment, Alroy at the head of the Sacred Guard 
had withdrawn from the combat. Abner and Asriel still 
maintained the fight, and the Caliph was at the same time 
preparing for new efforts, and watching with anxiety for 
the arrival of Scherirah. In the fifth hour, from an emi¬ 
nence he marked with exultation the advancing banners of 
his expected succours. Confident now that the day was 
won, he announced the exhilarating intelligence to his 
soldiers ; and, while they were excited by the animating 
tidings, led them once more to the charge. It was irre¬ 
sistible ; Scherirah seemed to have arrived only for the 
pursuit, only in time to complete the victory. What then 
was the horror, the consternation of Alroy, when Benaiah, 
dashing up to him, informed him that the long-expected 
succours consisted of the united forces of Scherii-ah and 
Abidan, and had attacked him in the rear. Human genius 
could afford no resource. The exhausted Hebrews, whose 
energies had been tasked to the utmost, were surrounded. 
The Karasmians made a general and simultaneous advance. 


.\ItROY. 


215 


In a few minutes the Hebrew' ^rmy was thrown into con¬ 
fusion. Tlie stoutest warriors threw away their swords in 
despair. Every one thought only of self-preservation. 
Even Abner fled towards Hamadan. Asriel was slain. 
Alroy, finding it was all over, rushed to his pavilion at the 
head of about three hundred of the guards, seized the fainting 
Scliirene, threw her before him on his saddle, and cutting 
his way through all obstacles, dashed into the desert. 

For eight-and-forty hours they never stopped. Their 
band was soon reduced one-third. On the morning of the 
third day they dismounted and refreshed themselves at a 
well. Half only regained their saddles. Schirene never 
spoke. On they rushed again, each hour losing some 
exhausted co-mate. At length, on the fifth day, about 
eighty strong, they arrived at a grove of palm-trees. Here 
they dismounted. And Alroy took Schirene in his arms, 
and the shade seemed to revive her. She opened her eyes, 
and pressed his hand and smiled. He gathered her some 
dates, and she drank some water. 

‘ Our toils will soon be over, sweetest,’ he whispered to 
her ; ‘ I have lost everything but thee.’ 

Again tliey mounted, and, proceeding at a less rapid 
pace, they arrived towards evening at the ruined city, 
wliither Alroy all this time had been directing his course. 
Dashing down the great street, they at length entered the 
old amphitheatre. They dismounted. Alroy made a couch 
with tlieir united cloaks for Schirene. Some collected fuel, 
great store of which was found, and kindled large fires. 
Others, while it was yet light, chased the gazelles, and 
were sufficiently fortunate to provide their banquet, or 
fetched water from the well known to their leader. In an 
hour’s time, clustering round their fires in groups, and 
sharing their rude fare, you might have deemed them, 
instead of the discomfited and luxurious guards of a mighty 
monarch, the accustomed tenants of this wild abode. 

‘ Come, my lads,’ said Alroy, as he rubbed his hands over 
the ascending flame, ‘at any rate this is better than the 
desert! ’ 


211) 


ALROV. 


CHAPTER XII. 

After all Lis exertions, Alroy fell into profound and 
dreamless sleep. When he awoke, the sun had been long 
up. Schirene was still slumbering. He embraced her, and 
she opened her eyes and smiled. 

‘ You are now a bandit’s bride,’ he said. ‘How like you 
our new life ? ’ 

‘Well! with thee.’ 

‘ Rest here, my sweetest: I must rouse our men, and see 
how fortune speeds.’ So saying, and tripping lightly over 
many a sleeping form, he touched Benaiah. 

‘ So ! my brave captain of the guard, still napping! 
Come ! stir, stir.’ 

Benaiah jumped up with a cheerful face. ‘ I am ever 
ready, Sire.’ 

‘ I know it; but remember I am no more a king, only 
a co-mate. Away with me, and let us form some order.’ 

The companions quitted the amphitheatre and reconnoi¬ 
tred the adjoining buildings. They found many stores, the 
remains of old days, mats, tents, and fuel, drinking-bowls, 
and other homely furniture. They fixed upon a building 
for their stable, and others for the accommodation of their 
band. They summoned their companions to the open place, 
the scene of Hassan Subah’s fate, where Alroy addressed 
them and explained to them his plans. They were divided 
into companies ; each man had his allotted duty. Some 
were placed on guard at different parts; some were sent 
out to the chase, or to collect dates from the Oasis ; others 
led the horses to the contiguous pasture, or remained to 
attend to their domestic arrangements. The amphitheatre 
Avas cleared out. A rude but convenient pavilion was 
formed for Schirene. They covered its ground with mats, 
and each emulated the other in his endeavours to study her 
accommodation. Her kind words and inspiring smiles 
animated at the same time their zeal and their invention. 

They soon became accustomed to their rough but ad- 


ALROV. 


217 


venturous life. Its novelty pleased them, and the perpetual 
excitement of urgent necessity left them no time to mourn 
over their terrible vicissitudes. While Alroy lived, hope 
indeed never deserted their sanguine bosoms. And sucli 
was the influence of his genius, that the most desponding 
felt that to be discomfited with him was preferable to concpiest 
with another. They were a faithful and devoted band, and 
merry faces were not wanting when at night they assembled 
in the amphitheatre for their common meal. 

No sooner had Alroy completed his arrangements than 
he sent forth spies in all directions to procure intelligence, 
and especially to communicate, if possible, with Ithamar 
and Medad, provided that they still survived and maintained 
themselves in any force. 

A fortnight passed away without the approach of any 
stranger; at the end of which, there arrived four personages 
at their haunt, not very welcome to their chief, who, how¬ 
ever, concealed his chagrin at their appearance. These 
were Kisloch the Kourd, and Calidas the Indian, and their 
inseparable companions, the Guebre and the Negro. 


CHAPTER Xin. 

‘Noble Captain,’ said Kisloch, ‘we trust that you will 
permit us to enlist in the band. This is not the first time 
we have served under your orders in this spot. Old co- 
inates i’fkith, who have seen the best and the worst. Wo 
suspected wdiere you might be found, although, thanks to 
the ever felicitous invention of man, it is generally received 
that you died in battle. I hope your Majesty is well,’ 
added Kisloch, bowing to Schirene. 

‘ You are welcome, friends,’ replied Alroy; ‘ I know 
vour w'orth. You have seen, as you say, the best and the 
worst, and wdll, I trust, see better. Died in battle, eh! 
that’s good.’ 

‘ ’Tis so received,’ said Calidas. 

‘And what news of our friends? ’ 



218 


ALROY. 


‘ N'ot over good, but strange/ 

‘ How so? ’ 

‘ Hainadan is taken/ 

‘ I am prepared ; tell me all/ 

‘ Old Bostenaj and the Lady Miriam are borne prisonora 
to Bagdad/ 

‘ Prisoners? ’ 

‘ But so : all will be well with them, I trow. The Lord 
Hoiiain is in high favour with the conqueror, and will 
doubtless protect them.’ 

‘ Hoiiain in favour? ’ 

‘Even so. He made terms for the city,-and right good 
ones.’ 

‘ Hah ! he was ever dexterous. Well! if he save my 
sister, I care not for his favour.’ 

‘ There is no doubt. All may yet be well, Sir.’ 

‘ Let us act, not hope. Where’s Abner? ’ 

‘ Dead.’ 

‘How?’ 

‘ In battle.’ 

‘ Art sure ? ’ 

‘ I saw him fall, and fought beside him.’ 

‘A soldier’s death is all our fortune now. I am glad ho 
was not captured. Where’s Medad, Ithamar? ’ 

‘ Fled into Egypt.’ 

‘ We have no force whatever, then? ’ 

‘ None but your guards here.’ 

‘ They are strong enough to plunder a caravan. Honain, 
you say, in favour ? ’ 

‘Very high. He’ll make good terms for us.’ 

‘ This is strange news.’ 

‘Very, but true.’ 

‘Well ! you are welcome! Share our fare; ’tis rough, 
and somewhat scanty; but we have feasted, and may feast 
again. Fled into Egypt, eh ? ’ 

‘ Ay 1 Sir.’ 

‘ Schirene, shouldst like to see the Nile? ’ 

‘I have heard of crocodiles,’ 


ALKOY, 


219 


CHAPTER XTY. 

If the presence of Kisloch and liis companions were not 
very pleasing to Alroy, with the rest of the band they soon 
became great favourites. Their local knowledge, and their 
experience of desert life, made them valuable allies, and 
tlieir boisterous jocularity and unceasing merriment were 
not unwelcome in the present monotonous existence of the 
fugitives. As for Alroy himself, he meditated an escape to 
Egypt. He determined to seize the first opportunity of 
procuring some camels, and then, dispersing his band, with 
the exception of Benaiah and a few faithful retainers, he 
trusted that, disguised as merchants, they might succeed in 
crossing Syria, and entering Africa by Palestine. With 
these plans and prospects, he became each day more cheer¬ 
ful and more sanguine as to the future. He had in liis 
possession some valuable jewels, which he calculated upon 
disposing of at Cairo for a sum sufiicient for all his pur¬ 
poses ; and having exhausted all the passions of life while 
yet a youth, he looked forward to the tranquil termination 
of his existence in some poetic solitude with his beautiful 
companion. 

One evening, as they returned from the Oasis, Alroy 
guiding the camel that bore Schirene, and ever and anon 
looking up in her inspiring face, her sanguine spirit would 
have indulged in a delightful future. 

‘ Thus shall we pass the desert, sweet,’ said Schirene. 
‘ Can this be toil ? ’ 

‘ There is no toil with love,’ replied Alroy. 

‘ And we were made for love, and not for empire,’ re¬ 
joined Schirene. 

‘ The past is a dream,’ said Alroy. ‘ So sages teach us ; 
but, until we act, their wisdom is but wind. I feel it now. 
Have we ever lived in aught but deserts, and fed on aught 
but dates? Methinks ’tis very natural. But that I am 
tempted b}’- the security of distant lands, I could remain 
here a free and happy outlaw. Time, custom, and necessity 


220 


ALROY. 


form our natures. When I first met Scherirah in iheso 
ruins, I shrank Avitli horror from degraded man ; and now 
I sigh to be his heir. We must not think ! ’ 

‘ No love, we’ll only hope,’ replied Schirene; and they 
passed through the gates. 

The night was beautiful, the air was still warm and 
sweet. Schirene gazed upon the luminous heavens. ‘ We 
thought not of these skies when we were at Bagdad,’ she 
exclaimed; ‘ and yet, my life, what was the brightness of 
our palaces compared to these ? All is left to us that man 
should covet, freedom, beauty, and youth. I do believe, 
ere long, Ah’oy, we shall look back upon the wondrous past 
as on another and a lower world. Would that this were 
Egypt! ’Tis my only wish.’ 

‘ And it shall soon be gratified. All will soon be 
arranged. A few brief days, and then Schirene will mount 
her camel for a longer ride than just to gather dates. 
You’ll make a sorry traveller, I fear ! ’ 

‘ Not I; I’ll tire you all.’ 

They reached the circus, and seated themselves round 
the blazing fire. Seldom had Alroy, since his fall, appeared 
more cheerful. Schirene sang an Arab air to the band, 
who joined in joyous chorus. It was late ere they sought 
repose ; and they retired to their rest, sanguine and con¬ 
tented. 

A few hours afterwards, at the break of dawn, Alroy was 
roused from his slumbers by a rude pressure on his breast, 
lie started ; a ferocious soldier was kneeling over him ; he 
would have spurned him ; he found Ids hand manacled. 
He would have risen ; his feet were bound. He looked 
round for Schirene, and called her name ; he was answered 
only by a shriek. Tlie amphitheatre was filled with Karas- 
mian troops. His own men were surprised and over¬ 
powered. Kisloch and the Guebre had been on guard. 
He was raised from the ground, and flung upon a camel, 
which was instantly trotted out of the circus. On every 
side he beheld a wild scene of disorder and dismay. Ho 
was speechless from passion and despair. The camel was 


ALKOY. 


221 


dragged into tlie desert. A body of cavalry inslantly sur¬ 
rounded it, and they set off at a rapid pace. Tlie Avliolo 
seemed tlie work of an instant. 

How many days had passed Alroy knew not. Ho had 
taken no account of time. Night and day were to him tlie 
same. He was in a stupor. But the sweetness of the air 
and the greenness of the earth at length partially roused 
liis attention. He was just conscious that they had quitted 
the desert. Before him was a noble river ; he beheld the 
Euphrates from the very spot he had first viewed it in his 
pilgrimage. The strong association of ideas called back his 
memory. A tear stole down his cheek ; the bitter drop 
stole to his parched lips ; he asked the nearest horseman 
for water. The guard gave him a wetted sponge, with 
which he contrived with difiiculty to wipe his lips, and 
then he let it fall to the ground. The Karasmian struck 
him. 

They arrived at the river. The prisoner was taken from 
the camel and placed in a covered boat. After some 
hours they stopped and disembarked at a small village. 
Alroy was placed upon an ass with his back to its head. 
His clothes were soiled and tattered. The children jDeltcd 
him with mud. An old woman, with a fanatic curse, 
placed a crown of paper on his brow. With difiiculty his 
brutal guards prevented their victim from being torn to 
pieces. And in such fashion, towards noon of the four¬ 
teenth day, David Alroy again entered Bagdad. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The Intelligence of the capture of Alroy spread through 
the agitated city. The Moolahs bustled about as if they 
had received a fresh demonstration of the authenticity of 
the prophetic mission. All the Dervishes began begging. 
The men discussed afifairs in the coffee-houses, and the 
women chatted at the fountains."® 

‘ They may say what they like, but I wish him well,’ 



222 


ALROy. 


said a fair Ai’ab, as she arranged her veil. ‘ He may he an 
impostor, but he was a very handsome one.’ 

‘ All the women are for him, that’s the truth,’ responded 
a companion; ‘ but then we can do liim no good.’ 

‘We can tear their eyes out,’ said a third. 

‘ And what do you think of Alp Arslan, truly ? ’ inquired 
a fourth. 

‘ I wish he were a pitcher, and then I could break his 
neck,’ said a fifth. 

‘ Only think of the Princess ! ’ said a sixth. 

‘Well ! she has had a glorious time of it,’ said a seventh. 

‘ Nothing was too good for her,’ said an eighth. 

‘ I like true love,’ said a ninth. 

‘Well! I hope he will be too much for them all yet,’ 
said a tenth. 

‘ I should not wonder,’ said an eleventh. 

‘He can’t,’ said a twelfth, ‘ he has lost his sceptre.’ 

‘You don’t say so? ’ said a thirteenth. 

‘It is too true,’ said a fourteenth. 

‘ Do you think he was a wizard? ’ said a fifteenth. ‘ I 
vow if there be not a fellow looking at us behind those 
trees.’ 

‘ Impudent scoundrel! ’ said a sixteenth. ‘ I Vydsh it 
were Alroy. Let us all scream, and put down our veils.’ 

And the group ran away. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Two stout soldiers were playing chess in a coffee¬ 
house. 

‘May I slay my mother,’ said one, ‘but I cannot make a 
move. I fought under him at Nehauend ; and thougli I 
took the amnesty, I have half a mind now to seize my 
sword and stab the first Turk that enters.’ 

‘ ’Twere but sheer justice,’ said his companion. ‘ By my 



ALEOy. 


223 


father’s blessing, he was the man for a charge. They may 
say what they like, but compared with him, Alp Arslan is 
a white-livered Giaour.’ 

‘ Here is confusion to him and to thy last move. There’s 
the dirhem, I can play no more. May I slay my mother, 
though, but I did not think he would let himself be taken.’ 

‘ By the blessing of my father, nor I; but then he was 
asleep.’ 

‘ That makes a difference. He was betrayed.* 

‘ All brave men are. They say Kisloch and his set pocket 
their fifty thousand by the job.’ 

‘ May each dirhem prove a plague-spot! ’ 

‘ Amen ! Dost remember Abner ? ’ 

‘ May I slay my mother if I ever forget him. He spoke 
to his men like so many lambs. What has become of the Lady 
Mii'iam?’ 

‘ She is here.’ 

‘ That will cut Alroy.’ 

‘ He was ever fond of her. Dost remember she gained 
Adoram’s life ? ’ 

‘ Oh! she could do anything, next to the Queen.* 

‘Before her, I say, before her. He has refused the 
Queen, he never refused the Lady Miriam.* 

‘ Because she asked less.’ 

‘ Dost know it seemed to me that things never went on so 
well after Jabaster’s death?’ 

‘ So say I. There was a something, eh ? ’ 

‘ A sort of a peculiar, as it were, kind of something, eh ? ’ 
‘ You have well described it. Every man felt the same. 
I have often mentioned it to my comrades. Say what you 
like, said I, but slay my mother, if ever since the old 
man strangled himself, things did not seem, as it were, in 
their natural propinquity. ’Twas the phrase I used.’ 

‘ A choice one. Unless there is a natural propinquity, 
the best-arranged matters will fall out. However, the ass 
sees farther than his rider, and so it was with Alroy, the 
best commander 1 ever served under, all the same,’ 

‘ Let us go forth and see how affairs run.’ 


224 


AIJiOY. 


‘ Ay, do. If wc bear any one abuse Alroy, wo’ll cleavo 
bis skull.’ 

‘ That will we. There are a good many of our stout fel¬ 
lows about; w’e might do something yet.’ 

‘ Who knows ? ’ 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A SUBTERRANEAN DUNGEON of the eitadcl of Bagdad held in 
its gloomy limits the late lord of Asia. The captive did not 
sigh, or weep, or wail. He did not speak. He did not even 
think. For several days he remained in a state of stupor. 
On the morning of the fourth day, he almost unconseiously 
partook of the wretched provision which his gaolers 
brought him. Their torches, round which the bats whirled 
and flapped their wings, and twinkled their small e^ms, 
threw a ghastly glare over the nearer walls of the dun¬ 
geon, the extremity of which defied the vision of the pri¬ 
soner ; and, when the gaolers retired, Alroy was in complete 
darkness. 

The image of the past came back to him. He tried in 
vain to penetrate the surrounding gloom. Flis hands w^ere 
manacled. Ids legs also were loaded with chains. The 
notion that his life might perhaps have been cruelly spared 
in order that he might linger on in this horrible state of 
conscious annihilation filled him with frenzy. He would 
have dashed his fetters against his brow, but the chain re¬ 
strained him. He flung himself upon the damp and rugged 
ground. His fall disturbed a thousand obscene things. He 
heard the quick glide of a serpent, the creeping retreat of 
the clustering scorpions, and the swift escape of the dashing 
rats. His mighty calamities seemed slight wdien compared 
with these petty miseries. His great soul could not support 
him under these noisome and degi’ading incidents. He 
sprang, in disgust, upon his feet, and stood fearful of mov¬ 
ing, lest every step should introduce him to some new 
abomination. Xt length, exhausted nature was unable any 



ALKOY. 


22.5 


longer to sustain him. He groped his way to the rude 
seat, cut in the rocky wall, which was his only accommoda¬ 
tion. He put forth his hand. It touched the slimy fur of 
some wild animal, that instantly sprang away, its fiery eyes 
sparkling in the dark. Alroy recoiled with a sensation of 
woe-begone dismay. His shaken nerves could not sustain 
liim under this base danger, and these foul and novel 
trials. He could not refrain from an exclamation of 
despair; and, when he remembered that he was now far 
beyond the reach of all human solace and sympathy, even 
all human aid, for a moment his mind seemed to desert 
him; and he wrung his hands in forlorn and almost idiotic 
woe. 

An awful thing it is, the failure of the energies of a 
master-mind. He who places implicit confidence in his 
genius will find himself some day utterly defeated and de¬ 
serted. ’Tis bitter ! Every paltry hind seems but to breathe 
to mock you. Slow, indeed, is such a mind to credit that 
the never-failing resource can at least be wanting. But so 
it is. Like a dried-np fountain, the perennial flow and 
bright fertility have ceased, and ceased for ever. Then comes 
the madness of retrospection. 

Draw a curtain ! draw a curtain ! and fling it over this 
agonising anatomy. 

The days of childhood, his sweet sister’s voice and smiling 
love, their innocent pastimes, and the kind solicitude of 
faithful servants, all the soft detail of mild domestic life : 
these were the sights and memories that flitted in wild play 
before the burning vision of Alroy, and rose upon his tor¬ 
tured mind. Empire and glory, his sacred nation, his im¬ 
perial bride ; these, these were nothing. Their worth had 
vanished with the creative soul that called them into action. 
The pni’e sympathies of nature alone remained, and all his 
thought and grief, all his intelligence, all his emotion, were 
centred in his sister. 

It was the seventh morning. A guard entered at an un¬ 
accustomed hour, and, sticking a torch into a niche in the 
wall, announced that a person was ^vithont who hadpermie- 


226 


ALEOY. 


sion to speak to the prisoner. They were the first human 
accents that had met the ear of Alroy during his captivity, 
which seemed to him an age, a long dark period, that can¬ 
celled all things. He shuddered at the harsh tones. Ho 
tried to answer, hut his unaccustomed lips refused their 
oflBce. He raised his heavy arms, and endeavoured to sig¬ 
nify his consciousness of what had been uttered. Yet, 
indeed, he had not listened to the message without emotion. 
He looked forward to the grate with strange curiosity; 
and, as he looked, he trembled. The visitor entered, muf¬ 
fled in a dark caftan. The guard disappeared ; and the 
caftan falling to the ground, revealed Honain. 

‘My beloved Alroy,’ said the brother of Jabaster ; and 
he advanced, and pressed him to his bosom. Had it been 
Miriam, Alroy might have at once expired ; but the presence 
of this worldly man called back his worldliness. The re¬ 
vulsion of his feelings was wonderful. Pride, perhaps 
even hope, came to his aid ; all the associations seemed to 
counsel exertion ; for a moment he seemed the same Alroy. 

‘ I rejoice to find at least thee safe, Honain.’ 

‘I also, if my security may lead to thine.’ 

‘ Still whispering hope ! ’ 

‘ Despair is the conclusion of fools.’ 

‘ O Honain ! ’tis a great trial. I can play my part, and 
yet methinks ’twere better we had not again met. How is 
Schirene ? ’ 

‘ Thinking of thee.’ 

‘ ’Tis something that she can think. My mind has gone. 
Where’s Miriam ? ’ 

‘ Free.’ 

‘ That’s something. Thou hast done that. Good, good 
Honain, be kind to that sweet child, if only for my sake. 
Thou art all she has left.’ 

‘ She hath thee.’ 

‘ Her desolation.’ 

‘ Live and be her refuge.’ 

‘Hows that? These walls! Escape? Ho, no; it is 
impossible.’ 


ALROY. 


227 


‘ I do not deem it so.’ 

‘ Indeed! I’ll do anything. Speak ! Can we bribe ? can 
we cleav.e their skulls ? can we-’ 

‘ Calm thyself, my friend. There is no need of bribes, no 
need of bloodshed. We must make terms.’ 

‘ Terms ! We might have made them on the plains of 
Nehaucnd. Terms ! Terms with a captive victim ? ’ 

‘ Why victim ?’ 

‘Is Arslan then so generous?’ 

‘ He is a beast, more savage than the boar that grinds its 
tusks within his country’s forests.’ 

‘ Wliy. speakest thou then of hope ?’ 

‘ I spoke of certainty. I did not mention hope.’ 

‘Dear Honain, iny brain is weak; but I can bear strange 
things, or else I should not be here. I feel thy thoughtful 
friendship ; but indeed there need no winding words to tell 
my fate. Pr’ythee speak out.’ 

‘ In a word, thy life is safe.’ 

‘What! spared?’ 

‘ If it please thee.’ 

‘ Please me ? Life is sweet. I feel its sweetness. I want 
but little. Freedom and solitude are all I ask. My life 
spared ! I’ll not believe it. Thou hast done this deed, 
thou mighty man, that masterest all souls. Thou hast not 
forgotten me; thou hast not forgotten the days gone by, 
thou hast not forgotten thine own Alroy! Who calls 
thee worldly is a slanderer. 0 Honain! thou art too 
faithful ! ’ 

‘ I have no thought but for thy service. Prince.’ 

‘ Call me not Prince, call me thine own Alroy. My life 
spared ! ’Tis wonderful ! When may I go ? Let no one 
see me. IManage that, Honain. Thou canst manage all 
things. I am for Egypt. Thou hast been to Egypt, hast 
thou not, Honain ?’ 

‘ A very wondrous land, ’twill please thee much.’ 

‘ When may I go ? Tell me when I may go. When may 
I quit this dark and noisome cell? ’Tis worse than all their 
tortures, dear Honain. Air and light, and I really think 



228 


ALEOY. 


my S 2 Dii’it never would break, but this horrible dungeon- 

I scarce can look upon thy face, sweet friend. ’Tis serious.’ 

‘ Wouldst thou have me gay?’ 

‘ Yes ! if we are free.’ 

‘ Alroy! thou art a great spirit, the greatest that I e’er 
knew, have ever read of. I never knew thy like, and never 
shall.’ 

‘ Tush, tush, sweet friend, I am a broken reed, but still I 
am free. This is no time for courtly phrases. Let’s go, 
and go at once.’ 

‘A moment, dear Alroy. I am no flatterer. "Wliat I 
said came from my heart, and doth concern us much and 
instantly. I was saying thou hast no common mind, Alroy ; 
indeed thou hast a mind unlike all others. Listen, my 
Prince. Thou hast read mankind deeply and truly. Few 
have seen more than tliyself, and none have so rare a spring 
of that intuitive knowledge of thy race, which is a gem to 
which experience is but a jeweller, and without which no 
action can befriend us.’ 

‘Well, well!’ 

‘ A moment’s calmness. Thou hast entered Bagdad in 
triumph, and thou hast entered the same city with every 
contumely which the base spirit of our race could cast upon 
its victim. ’Twas a great lesson.’ 

‘ I feel it so.’ 

‘ And teaches us how vile and valueless is the opinion of 
our fellow-men.’ 

‘Alas! ’tis true.’ 

‘ I am glad to see thee in this wholesome temper. ’Tis 
full of wisdom.’ 

‘ The miserable are often wise.’ 

‘ But to believe is nothing unless we act. Speculation 
should only sharpen practice. The time hath come to prove 
thy lusty faith in this philosophy. I told thee we could 
make terms. I have made them. To-morrow it was doomed 
Alroy should die—and what a death ! A death of infinite 
torture! Hast ever seen a man impaled ? ’ ^^ 

‘Hahl’ 



ALROY. 


229 


‘ To view it is alone a doom.’ 

‘ God of Heaven ! ’ 

‘ It is so horrible, that ’tis ever marked, that when this 
direful ceremony occurs, the average deaths in cities greatly 
increase. ’Tis from the turning of the blood in the specta¬ 
tors, who yet from some ungovernable madness cannot 
refrain from hurrying to the scene. I speak with some 
authority. I speak as a physician.’ 

‘ Speak no more, I cannot endure it.’ 

‘ To-morrow this doom awaited thee. As for Schirene-’ 

‘ Hot for her, oh ! surely not for her ? ’ 

‘ Ho, they were merciful. She is a Caliph’s daughter. 
’Tis not forgotten. The axe would close her life. Her 
fair neck would give slight trouble to the headsman’s art. 
But for thy sister, but for Miriam, she is a witch, a Jewish 
witch! They would have burnt her alive ! ’ 

‘ I’ll not believe it, no, no, I’ll not believe it: damnable, 

bloody demons ! Wlien I had jDOwer I spared all, all but- 

ah, me! ah, me! why did I live?’ 

‘ Thou dost forget thyself; I speak of that which was to 
have been, not of that which is to be. I have stepped in 
and communed with the conqueror. I have made terms.’ 

‘ What are they, wdiat can they be ? ’ 

‘ Easy. To a philosopher like Alroy an idle ceremony.’ 
‘Be brief, be brief.’ 

‘ Thou seest thy career is a gi’eat scandal to the Moslemin. 
I mark their w'eakness, and I have worked upon it. Thy 
mere defeat or death will not blot out the stain upon their 
standard and their faith. The public mind is wild with 
fantasies since Alroy rose. Men’s opinions flit to and fro 
with that fearful change that bodes no stable settlement of 
states. Hone know what to cling to, or where to placo 
their trust. Creeds are doubted, authority disputed. They 
would gladly account for thy success by other than human 
means, yet must deny thy mission. There also is the famo 
of a fair and mighty Princess, a daughter of their Caliphs, 
wdiich they would gladly clear. I mark all this, observe 
and work upon it. So, could we devise some means by 




230 


ALKOY. 


wliich tliy lingering followers could be for ever silenced, 
this great scandal fairly erased, and the public frame 
brought to a sounder and more tranquil pulse, why, they 
would concede much, much, very much.’ 

‘ Thy meaning, not thy means, are evident.’ 

‘ They are in thy power.’ 

* In mine? ’Tis a deep riddle. Pr’ythee solve it.’ 

‘Thou wilt be summoned at to-morrow’s noon before this 
Arslan. There, in the presence of the assembled people 
who are now with him as much as they were with tliee, 
thou wilt be accused of magic, and of intercourse with the 
infernal powers. Plead guilty.’ 

‘Well! is there more? ’ 

‘ Some trifle. They will then examine thee about the 
Princess. It is not diSicult to confess that Alroy won the 
Caliph’s daughter by an irresistible spell, and now ’tis 
broken.’ 

‘ So, so. Is that all ? ’ 

‘The chief. Thou canst then address some phrases to 
the Hebrew prisoners, denying thy Divine mission, and so 
forth, to settle the public mind, observe, upon tliis point for 
ever.’ 

‘Ay, ay, and then-?’ 

‘ No more, except for form. (Upon the completion of the 
conditions, mind, you will be convej^ed to wliat land you 
please, with such amount of treasure as you choose.) There 
is no more, except, I say, for form, I would, if I were you 
(’twill be expected), I would just publicly affect to renounce 
our faith, and boAv before their Prophet.’ 

‘Hah! Art thou there? Is this thy freedom? Get 
thee behind me, tempter I Never, never, never 1 Not a 
jot, not a jot: I’ll not yield a jot. Were my doom one 
everlasting torture, I’d spurn thy terms ! Is this thy high 
contempt of our poor kind, to outrage my God! to prove 
myself the vilest of the vile, and baser than the basest? 
Pare philosoph}’’ ! 0 Honain ! would we h.ad never met!’ 

‘Or never parted. True. Had my word been taken, 
Alroy would ne’er have been betrayed.’ 


ALROY. 


231 


* No more ; I pray thee, sir, no more. Leave me.’ 

‘ Were this a palace, I would. Harsh words are softened 
by a friendly ear, when spoken in affliction.’ 

‘ Say what they will, T am the Lord’s anointed. As such 
I should have lived, as such at least I’ll die.’ 

‘ And Miriam ? ’ 

‘ The Lord will not desert her: she ne’er deserted Him.’ 

‘ Schireiie?’ 

‘ Schirene ! why! for her sake alone I will die a hero. 
Shall it be said she loved a craven slave, a base impostor, a 
vile renegade, a villanous dealer in drugs and charms ? 
Oh! no, no, no ! if only for her sake, her sweet, sweet sake, 
my end shall be like my great life. As the sun 1 rose, like 
him I set. Still the world is warm with my bright fame, 
and my last hour shall not disgrace my noon, stormy indeed, 
but glorious ! ’ 

Honain took the torch from the niche, and advanced to 
the grate. It was not fastened : he drew it gently open, 
and led forward a veiled and female figure. The veiled and 
female figure threw herself at the feet of Alroy, who seemed 
lost to what was passing. A soft lip pressed his hand. He 
started, his chains clanked. 

‘ Alroy !’ softly murmured the kneeliug female. 

‘What voice is that?’ wildly exclaimed the Prince of the 
Captivity. ‘ It falls upon my ear like long-forgotten music. 
I’ll not believe it. No! I’ll not believe it. Art thou 
Schirene ?’ 

‘ I am that wretched thing they called thy bride.’ 

‘Oh! this indeed is torture! What impalement can 
equal this sharp moment? Look not on me, let not our eyes 
meet! They have met before, like to the confluence of two 
shining rivers blending in one great stream of rushing light. 
Bear off that torch, sir. Let impenetrable darkness cover 
our darker fortunes.’ 

‘ Alroy.’ 

‘ She speaks again. Is she mad, as I am, that thus she 
plays with agony?’ 

‘ Sire,’said Honain advancing, and laying his hand gently 


232 


ALKOY. 


on the arm of the captive, ‘ I pray thee moderate this passiom 
Thou hast some faithful friends here, who would fain com¬ 
mune in calmness for thy lasting welfare.’ 

‘ Welfare ! He mocks me.’ 

‘ I beseech thee. Sire, be calm. If, indeed, I speak unto 
that great Alroy whom all men fear and still may fear, I 
pray remember, ’tis not in palaces or in the battle-field 
alone that the heroic soul can conquer and command. 
Scenes like these are the great proof of a superior soul. 
While we live, our body is a temple where our genius 
pours forth its godlike iospiration, and while the altar is 
not overthrown, the deity may still work marvels. Then 
rouse thyself, great Sire; bethink thee that, a Caliph or a 
captive, there is no man within this breathing world like to 
Alroy. Shall such a being fall without a struggle,, like 
some poor felon, who has nought to trust to but the dull 
shuffling accident of Chance ? I, too, am a prophet, and I 
feel thou still wilt conquer.’ 

‘ Give me my sceptre then, give me the sceptre! I speak 
to the wrong brother! It was not thou, it was not thou 
that gavest it me.’ 

‘ Gain it once more. The Lord deserted David for a time ; 
still he pardoned him, and still he died a king.’ 

‘ A woman worked his fall.’ 

‘ But thee a woman raises. This gi’eat Princess, has she 
not suffered too ? Yet her spirit is still unbroken. List to 
her counsel: it is deep and fond.’ 

‘ So was our love.’ 

‘ And is, my Alroy ! ’ exclaimed the Princess. ‘ Be calm, 
I pray thee ! For my sake be calm; I am calm for thine. 
Thou hast listened to all Honain has told thee, that wise 
man, my Alroy, who never erred. ’Tis but a word he 
counsels, an empty .word, a most unmeaning form. But 
speak it, and thou art free, and Alroy and Schirene may 
blend again their glorious careers and lives of sweet fruition. 
Dost thou not remember when, walking in the garden of 
our joy, and palled with empire, how often hast thou sighed 
for some sweet isle unknown to man, where thou mightst 


ALROY. 


233 


pass tliy days witli no companion but my faitbfal self, and 
no adventures but our constant loves ? 0 ! my beloved, 

that life may still be thine ! And dost thou falter ? Dost 
call thyself forlorn with such fidelity, and deem tliyself a 
wretch, when Paradise with all its beauteous gates but 
w^ooes thy entrance ? Oh ! no, no, no, no! thou hast forgot 
Schirene: I fear me much, thy over-fond Schirene, who 
doats upon thy image in thy chains more than she did when 
those sweet hands of thine were bound with gems and 
played with her bright locks ! ’ 

‘ She speaks of another w^orld. I do remember some¬ 
thing. Who has sent this music to a dungeon ? My spirit 
softens with her melting words. My eyes are moist. I 
■weep ! ’ Tis pleasant. Sorrow is joy compared with my 

despair. I never thought to shed a tear again. My brain 
is cooler.’ 

‘ Weep, weep, I pray thee weep ; but let me kiss away thy 
tears, my soul! Didst think thy Schirene had deserted thee ? 
Ah ! that w^as it that made my bird so sad. It shall be free, 
and fly in a sweet sky, and feed on flowers with its faithful 
mate. Ah me! I am once more happy with my boy. 
There was no misery but thy absence, sweet! Methinks 
this dungeon is our bright kiosk ! Is that the sunbeam, or 
thy smile, my love, that makes the walls so joyful? ’ 

‘ Did I smile ? I’ll not believe it.’ 

‘ Indeed you did. Ah ! see he smiles again. Why this is 
freedom ! There is no such thing as sorrow. ’Tis a lie to 
frighten fools ! ’ 

‘ Why, Honain, what’s this ? ’Twould seem I am really 
joyful. There’s inspiration in her very breath. I am an¬ 
other being. Nay! waste not kisses on those ugly fetters.’ 

‘Methinks they are gold.’ 

They were silent. Schii’ene drew Alroy to his rough seat, 
and gently placing herself on his knees, threw her arms 
round his neck, and buried her face in his breast. After a 
few minutes she raised her head, and whispered in his ear, 
in irresistible accen’ts of sweet exultation, ‘ We shall be free 
to-morrow 1 ’ 


234 


ALROY. 


‘ To-morrow ! is the trial so near ? ’ exclaimed the captive, 
with an agitated voice and changing countenance. ‘ To¬ 
morrow ! ’ He threw Schirene aside somewhat hastily, and 
sprang from his seat. ‘ To-morrow ! would it were over ! 
To-morrow! Methinks there is within that single word the 

fate of ages ! Shall it be said to-morrow that Alroy- 

Hah ! what art thou that risest now before me ? Dread, 
mighty spirit, thou hast come in time to save me from per¬ 
dition. Take me to thy bosom, ’tis not stabbed. They did 
not stab thee. Thou seest me here communing with thy 
murderers. What then ? I am innocent. Ask them, dread 
ghost, and call upon their fiendish souls to say I am pure. 
They would make me dark as themselves, but shall not.’ 

‘ Honain, Honain ! ’ exclaimed the Princess in a terrible 
whisper as she flew to the Physician. ‘ He is "wild again. 
Calm him, calm him. Mark ! how he stands with his ex¬ 
tended arms, and fixed vacant eyes, muttering most awful 
Avords ! My spirit fails me. It is too fearful.’ 

The Physician advanced and stood by the side of Alroy, 
but in vain attempted to catch his attention. He ventured 
to touch his arm. The Prince started, turned round, and 
recognising him, exclaimed in a shrieking voice, ‘ Off, 
fratricide ! ’ 

Honain recoiled, pale and quiAmring. Schirene sprang to 
his arm. ‘ What said he, Honain ? Thou dost not speak. 
I never saw thee pale before. Art thou, too, mad ? ’ 

‘ Would I were ! ’ 

‘ All men are growing wild. I am sure he said something. 
I pray thee tell me what was it ? ’ 

‘ Ask him.’ 

‘ I dare not. Tell me, tell me, Honain! ’ 

‘ That I dare not.’ 

‘ Was it a word ? ’ 

‘ Ay! a Avord to wake the dead. Let us begone.’ 

‘ Without our end ? Coward ! I’ll speak to him. My 
own Alroy,’ sweetly Avhispered the Princess, as she advanced 
before him. 

‘What, has the fox left the tigress 1 Is’t so, eh ? Are 



ALROY. 


235 


there no judgments ? Are the innocent only haunted ? I 
am innocent! I did not strangle thee! He said rightly, 
“ Beware, beware ! they wd^o did this may do even feller 
deeds.” And here they are quick at their damned work. 
Thy body suffered, great Jabaster, but me they would 
strangle body and soul ! ’ 

The Princess shi-ieked, and fell into the arms of the ad¬ 
vancing Honain, who bore her out of the dungeon. 


CHAPTER XVHI. 

After the fall of Hamadan, Bostenay and Miriam had 
been carried jDrisoners to Bagdad. Through tlie inter¬ 
ference of Honain, their imprisonment had been exempted 
fi'om the usual hardships, but they were still confined to 
their chambers in the citadel. Hitherto all the endeavours 
of Miriam to visit her brother had been fruitless. Honain 
was the only person to whom she could apply for assistance, 
and he, in answer to her importunities, only regretted his 
want of power to aid her. In vain had she attempted, by 
the offer of some remaining jewels, to secure the co-opera¬ 
tion of her guards, with whom her loveliness and the soft¬ 
ness of her manners had already ingratiated her. She had 
not succeeded even in communicating with Alroy. But 
after the unsuccessful mission of Honain to the dungeon, 
the late Vizier visited the sister of the captive, and, bi-eaking 
to her A\dth delicate skill the intelligence of the impending 
catastrophe, he announced that he had at length succeeded 
in obtaining for her the desired permission to visit her 
brother; and, while she shuddered at the proximity of an 
event for which she had long attempted to prepare herself, 
Honain, with some modifications, whispered the means by 
which he flattered himself that it might yet be averted.. 
Mii’iam listened to him in silence, nor could he, with all his 
consummate art, succeed in extracting from her the slightest 
indication of her own opinion as to their expediency. They 
parted, Honain as sanguine as the wicked ever are. 



23G 


ALKOY. 


As Miriam dreaded, both for herself aud for Alroy, tho 
shock of an unexpected meeting, she availed herself of tho 
influence of Honain to send Caleb to her brother, to prepare 
him for her presence, and to consult him as to the desirable 
moment. Caleb found his late master lying exhausted on 
the floor of his dungeon. At first he would not speak or 
even raise his head, nor did he for a long time apparently 
recognise the faithful retainer of his uncle. But at length 
he grew milder, and when he fully comprehended who tho 
messenger was, and the object of the mission, he at first 
seemed altogether disinclined to see his sister, but in the end 
postponed their meeting for the present, and, pleading great 
exhaustion, fixed for that sad interview the first hour of 
dawn. 

Tho venerable Bostenay had scarcely ever spoken since 
the fall of his nephew ; indeed it was but too evident that 
his faculties, even if they had not entirely deserted him, 
were at least greatly impaired. He never quitted his couch; 
he took no notice of what occurred. He evinced no 
curiosity, scarcely any feeling. If indeed he occasionally 
did mutter an observation, it was generally of an irritable 
character, nor truly did he appear satisfied if anyone ap¬ 
proached him, save Miriam, from whom alone he would ac¬ 
cept the scanty viands which he ever appeared disinclined to 
touch. But his devoted niece, amid all her harrowing 
affliction, could ever spare to the protector of her youth a 
placid countenance, a watchful eye, a gentle voice, and a 
ready hand. Her religion and her virtue, the strength of 
her faith, and the inspiration of her innocence, supported 
this pure and hapless lady amid all her undeserved and un¬ 
paralleled sorrows. 

It was long past midnight; the young widow of Abner 
reposed upon a couch in a soft slumber. The amiable 
Beruna and the beautiful Bathsheba, the blinds '\\dthdrawn, 
watched the progress of the night. 

‘ Shall I wake her ?’ said the beautiful Bathsheba. ‘ Me- 
thinks the stars are paler ! She bade me rouse her long 
before the dawn.’ 


ALROV. 


o o 
Jo 4 

‘ Her sleep is too benign ! Let ns not wake her,’ replied 
tlie amiable Beruna. ‘ We rouse her only to sorrow.’ 

‘ May her dreams at least be happy ; ’ rejoined the beau¬ 
tiful Bathsheba. ‘ She sleeps tranquilly, as a flower.’ 

‘The veil has fallen from her head,’ said the amiable 
Beruna. ‘ I will replace it lightly on her brow. Is that 
well, my Bathsheba?’ 

‘ It is well, sweet Beruna. Her face shrouded by the 
shawl is like a pearl in its shell. See ! she moves ! ’ 

‘ Bathsheba ! ’ 

‘ I am here, sweet lady.’ 

‘ Is it near dawn ?’ 

‘ N’ot yet, sweet lady; it is yet night. It is long past the 
noon of night, sweet lady ; methinks I scent the rising 
breath of morn ; but still ’tis night, and the young moon 
shines like a sickle in the heavenly field, amid the starry 
harvest.’ 

‘Beruna, gentle girl, give me thy arm. I’ll rise.’ 

The maidens advanced, and gently raising their mistress, 
supported her to the window. 

‘ Since om’ calamities,’ said Miriam, ‘ I have never enjoyed 
such tranquil slumber. My dreams were slight, but sooth- 
ing. I saw him, but he smiled. Have I slept long, sweet 
girls ? Ye are very watchful.’ 

‘ Dear lady, let me bring thy shawl. The air is fresh-’ 

‘ But sweet; I thank thee, no. My broAV is not so cool 
as to need a covering. ’Tis a fair night!’ 

Miriam gazed upon the wide prospect of the moonlit 
capital. The elevated position of the citadel afforded an 
extensive view of the mighty groups of buildings, each in 
itself a city, broken only by some vast and hooded cupola, 
the tall, slender, white minarets of the mosques, or the 
black and spiral form of some lonely cypress, and through 
Avhich the rushing Tigris, flooded with light, sent forth its 
broad and brilliant torrent. All was silent; not a single 
boat floated on the fleet river, not a solitary voice broke the 
stillness of slumbering millions. She gazed, and, as she 
gazed, she could not refrain from contrasting the present 


238 


ALROY. 


scene, which seemed the sepulchre of all the passions of our 
race, with the unrivalled excitement of that stirring spec¬ 
tacle which Bagdad exhibited on the celebration of the 
marriage of Alroy. How different then, too, was her posi¬ 
tion from her present, and how happy! The only sister of 
a devoted brother, the lord and conqueror of Asia, the bride 
of his most victorious captain, one worthy of all her virtues, 
and whose youthful valour had encircled her brow with a 
diadem. For Miriam, exalted station had brought neither 
cares nor crimes. It had, as it were, only rendered her 
charity universal, and her benevolence omnipotent. She 
could not accuse herself, this blessed woman : she could not 
accuse herself, even in this searching hour of self-know¬ 
ledge : she could nob accuse herself, with all her meekness, 
and modesty, and humility, of having for a moment for¬ 
gotten her dependence on her God, or her duty to her 
neighbour. 

But when her thoughts recurred to that being from whom 
they were indeed scarcely ever absent; and when she re¬ 
membered him, and all his life, and all the tlmusand inci¬ 
dents of his youth, mysteries to the world, and known only 
to her, but which were indeed the prescience of his fame, 
and thought of all his surpassing qualities and all his sweet 
affection, his unrivalled glory and his impending fate, the 
tears, in silent agony, forced their way down her pale and 
pensive cheek. She bowed her head upon Bathsheba’s 
shoulder, and sweet Beruna pressed her quivering hand. 

The moon set, the stars grew white and ghastly, and 
vanished one by one. Over the distant plain of the Tigris, 
the scene of the marriage pomp, the dark purple horizon 
shivered into a rich streak of white and orange. The 
solemn strain of the Muezzin sounded from the minarets. 
Some one knocked at the door. It was Caleb. 

‘I am ready,’ said Miriam; and for a moment she covered 
her face with her right hand. ‘ Think of me, sweet maidens; 
pray for me ! ’ 


ALROy. 


239 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Leaning on Caleb, and lighted by a gaoler, bearing torches, 
Miriam descended the damp and broken stairs that led to 
the dungeon. She faltered as she arrived at the grate. She 
stopped, and leant against the cold and gloomy wall. The 
gaoler and Caleb preceded her. She heard the voice of 
Alroy. It was firm and sweet. Its accents reassured her. 
Caleb came forth with a torch, and held it to her feet; and, 
as he bent down, he said, ‘ My lord bade me beg you to be 
of good heart, for he is.’ 

The gaoler, having stuck his torch in the niche, with¬ 
drew. Miriam desired Caleb to stay without. Then, sum¬ 
moning up all her energies, she entered the dreadful abode. 
Alroy was standing to receive her. The light fell full upon 
his countenance. It smiled. Miriam could no longer re¬ 
strain herself. She ran forward, and pressed him to her 
heart. 

‘ 0, my best, my long beloved,’ whispered Alroy ; ‘ such 
a meeting indeed leads captivity captive ! ’ 

But the sister could not speak. She leant her head upon 
his shoulder, and closed her eyes, that she might not weep. 

‘ Courage, dear heart; courage, courage ! ’ whispered the 
captive. ‘ Indeed I am happy ! ’ 

‘ JMy brother, my brother ! ’ 

‘ Had we met yesterday, you would have found me per¬ 
haps a little vexed. But to-day I am myself again. Since 
I crossed the Tigris, I know not that I have felt such self¬ 
content. I have had sweet dreams, dear Miriam, full of 
solace. And, more than dreams, the Lord has pardoned me, 
I truly think.’ 

‘ O, my brother ! your words are full of comfort; for, in¬ 
deed, I too have dreamed, and dreamed of consolation. My 
spirit, since our fall, has never been more tranquil.’ 

‘ Indeed I am happy.’ 

‘ Say so again, my David ; let me hear again these words 
of solace!’ 


240 


ALKOY. 


‘Indeed, ’tis very true, my faithful friend. It is not 
spoken in kind mockery to make you joyous. For know, 
last eve, whether the Lord repented of his wrath, or whether 
some dreadful trials, ofwhichlwill not speak, and wish not 
to remember, had made atonement for my manifold sins, 
but so it was, that, about the time my angel Miriam sent 
her soothing message, a feeling of repose came over me, 
such as I long have coveted. Anon, I fell into a slumber, 
deep and sweet, and, instead of those wild and whirling 
images that of late have darted from my brain when it 
should rest, glimpses of empire and conspiracy, snatches of 
fierce wars and mocking loves, I stood beside our native 
fountain’s brink, and gathered flowers with my earliest 
friend. As I placed the fragrant captives in your flowing 
locks, there came Jabaster, that great, injured man, no 
longer stern and awful, but with benignant looks, and full 
of love. And he said, “ David, the Lord hath marked thy 
faithfulness, in spite of the darkness of thy dungeon.” So 
he vanished. He spoke, my sister, of some strange tempta¬ 
tions by heavenly aid withstood. Ho more of that. I awoke. 
And lo ! I heard my name still called. Full of my morning 
dream, I thought it was you, and I answered, “ Dear sister, 
art thou here ? ” But no one answered ; and then, reflect¬ 
ing, my memory recognised those thrilling tones that sum¬ 
moned Alroy in Jabaster’s cave.’ 

‘ The Daughter of the Voice ?’ 

‘ Even that sacred messenger. I am full of faith. The 
Lord hath pardoned me. Be sure of that.’ 

‘ I cannot doubt it, David. You have done great things 
for Israel; no one in these latter days has risen like you. 
If you have fallen, you were young, and strangely tempted.’ 

‘ Yet Israel, Israel! Did I not feel a worthier leader will 
yet arise, my heart would crack. I have betrayed my 
country ! ’ 

‘ Oh no, no, no ! Y on have shown what we can do and 
shall do. Your memory alone is inspiration. A great 
career, although baulked of its end, is still a landmark of 
human energy. Failure, when sublime, is not without its 


ALPtOY. 


241 


pui’pose. Great deeds are great legacies, and work with 
wondrous usury. By what Man has done, we learn what 
Man can do; and gauge the power and prospects of our 
race.’ 

‘ Alas ! there is no one to guard my name. ’Twill he 
reviled ; or worse, ’twill be forgotten.’ 

‘ Never ! the memory of great actions never dies. The 
sun of glory, though awhile obscured, will shine at last. 
And so, sweet brother, perchance some poet, in some dis¬ 
tant age, within whose veins our sacred blood may flow, his 
fancy flred with the national theme, may strike his harp to 
Alroy’s wild career, and consecrate a name too long for¬ 
gotten ?’ 

‘ May love make thee a prophetess! ’ exclaimed Alroy, as 
he bent down his head and embraced her. ‘ Do not tarry,’ 
he whispered. ‘ ’Tis better that we should part in this firm 
mood.’ 

She sprang from him, she clasped her hands. ‘We will 
not part,’ she exclaimed with energy; ‘I will die with 
thee.’ 

‘ Blessed girl, bo calm ! Do not unman me.’ 

‘ I am calm. See! I do not weep. Not a tear, not a 
tear. They are all in my heart.’ 

‘ Go, go, my Miriam, angel of light. Tarry no longer; 
I pray thee go. I would not think of the past. Let all my 
mind be centred in the present. Thy presence calls back 
our bygone days, and softens me too much. My duty to 
my uncle. Go, dear one, go ! ’ 

‘ And leave thee, leave thee to-Oh ! my David, thou 

hast seen, thou hast heard-Honain?’ 

‘ No more; let not that accursed name profane those holy 
lips. Baise not the demon in me.’ 

‘I am silent. Yet ’tis madness ! 0! my brother, thou 

hast a fearful trial.’ 

‘ The God of Israel is my refuge. He saved our fathers 
in the fiery furnace. He will save me.’ 

‘ I am full of faith. I pray thee let mo stay.’ 

‘ I would be silent; I would be alone. I cannot speak, 
£ 




242 


AXROY. 


^Miriam. I ask one favour, the last and dearest, from her 
who has never had a thought but for my wishes; blessed 
being, leave me.’ 

‘ 1 go. 0 Alroy, farewell! Let me kiss you. Again, 
once more ! Let me kneel and bless you. Brother, be¬ 
loved brother, great and glorious brother, I am worthy of 
you : I will not weep. I am prouder in this dread moment 
of your love than all your foes can bo of their hard 
triumph! ’ 


CHAPTER XX. 

Beruna and Bathsheba received their mistress when she 
returned to her chamber. They marked her desolate air. 
She was silent, pale, and cold. They bore her to her couch, 
whereon she sat Avith a most listless and unmeaning look ; 
her quivering lips parted, her eyes fixed upon the ground 
in A^acant abstraccion, and her arms languidly folded before 
her. Beruna stole behind her, and supported her back Avith 
pilloAVS, and Bathsheba, unnoticed, Avipod the slight foam 
from her mouth. Thus Miriam remained for seA'eral hours, 
her faithful maidens in vain watching for any indication of 
her self-consciousness. 

Suddenly a trumpet sounded. 

‘What is that ?’ exclaimed Miriam, in a shrill voice, and 
looking up Avith a distracted glance. 

Neither of them answered, since they Avere aAvare that it 
betokened the going forth of Alroy to his trial. 

Miriam remained in the same posture, and Avith the same 
expression of Avild inquiry. Another trumpet sounded, and 
after that a shout of the people. Then she raised up her 
arms to heaven, and bowed her head, and died. 



ALEOY. 


243 


CHAPTER XXL 

‘ Has the second trumpet sonnded ? ’ 

‘ To be sure: run, run for a good place. Where is Ab¬ 
dallah?’ 

‘ Selling sherbet in the square. Wo shall find him. Has 
Alroy come forth ? ’ 

‘ Yes ! he goes the other way. We shall be too late. 
Only think of Abdallah selling sherbet! ’ 

‘ Father, let me go ? ’ 

‘You will be in the way; you are too young: you will 
see nothing. Little boys should stay at home.’ 

‘ No, they should noL I will go. You can put me on 
your shoulders.’ 

‘ Where is Ibrahim ? Where is Ali? We must all keep 
together. We shall have to fight for it. I wish Abdallah 
were here. Only think of his selling sherbet! ’ 

‘ Keep straight forward. That is right. It is no use 
going that way. The Bazaar is shut. There is Fakreddin, 
there is Osman Effendi. He has got a new page,’ 

‘ So he has, I declare ; and a very pretty boy too.’ 

‘Father, will they impale Alroy alive ?’ 

‘I am sure I do not know. Never ask questions, my 
dear. Little boys never should.’ 

‘ Yes, they should. I hope they will impale him alive. I 
shall be so disappointed if they do not.’ 

‘ Keep to the left. Dash through the Butchers’ Bazaar : 
that is open. All right, all right. Did you push me, sir ? ’ 

‘ Suppose I did push you, sir, what then, sir ? ’ 

‘ Come along, don’t quarrel. That is a Karasmian. They 
think they are to do what they like. We are five to one to 
be sure, but still there is nothing like peace and quiet. I 
wish Abdallah were here with his stout shoulders. Only 
think of his selling sherbet! ’ 


B 2 


244 


ALROY. 


CHAPTER XXII. • 

The Square of tlie Grand Mosque, the same spot where 
Jabaster met Abidan by appointment, was the destined 
scene of the pretended trial of Alroy. Thither by break of 
day the sight-loving thousands of the capital had repaired. 
In the centre of the square, a large circle was described by 
a crimson cord, and guarded by Karasmian soldiers. Around 
this the swelling multitude pressed like the gathering waves 
of ocean, but, whenever the tide set in with too great an 
impulse, the savage Karasraians appeased the ungovernable 
element by raising their battle-axes, and brutally breaking 
the crowns and belabouring the shoulders of their nearest 
victims. As the morning advanced, the teiTaces of the 
surrounding houses, covered with awnings, were crowded 
with spectators. All Bagdad was astir. Since the marriage 
of Alroy, there had never been such a merr}’- morn as the 
day of his impalement. 

At one end of the circle was erected a magnificent throne. 
Half way between the throne and the other end of the circle, 
but further back, stood a company of Xegro eunuchs, hideous 
to behold, who, clothed in white, and armed wnth various 
instruments of torture, surrounded the enormous stakes, 
tall, thin, and sharp, that were prepared for the final cere¬ 
mony. 

The flourish of trumpets, the clash of cymbals, and the 
wild beat of the tambour, announced the arrival of Alp 
Arslan from the Serail. An avenue to the circle had been 
preserved through the multitude. The royal procession 
might bo traced as it wound through the populace, by the 
sparkling and undulating line of plumes of honour, and tho 
dazzling forms of the 'waving streamers, on which ■\ver 0 
insenbed the names of Allah and the Prophet. Suddenly, 
amid the bursts of music, and the shouts of tho spectators, 
many of whom on the terraces humbled themselves on their 
knccS; Alp Arslan mounted the throne, around which ranged 


ALROY. 


24.1 


tlieniselves Ins chief captains, and a deputation of the Mool- 
lalis, and Imams, and Cadis, and other principal personages 
of the city. 

The King of Karasme was tall in stature, and somewhat 
meagro in form. He was fair, or rather sandy-coloured, 
with a red beard, and blue eyes, and a flat nose. The mo¬ 
ment he was seated, a trumpet was heard in the distance 
from an opposite quarter, and it was soon understood 
throughout the assembly that the great captive was about 
to appear. 

A band of Karasmian guards first entered the circle, and 
ranged themselves round the cord, with their backs to the 
spectators. After them came fifty of the principal Hebrew 
prisoners, with their hands bound behind them, but evi¬ 
dently more for form than security. To these succeeded a 
small covered waggon drawn by mules, and surrounded by 
guards, from which was led forth, his legs relieved from 
their manacles, but his hands still in heavy chains, David 
Alroy! 

A universal buzz of blended sympathy, and wonder, and 
fear, and triumph arose, throughout the whole assembly. 
Each man involuntarily stirred. The vast populace moved 
to and fro in agitation. His garments soiled and tattered, 
his head bare, and his long locks drawn off his forehead, 
pale and thin, but still unsubdued, the late conqueror and 
Caliph of Bagdad threw around a calm and imperial glance 
upon those who were but recently his slaves. 

The trumpets again sounded, order was called, and a crier 
announced that his Highness Alp Arslan, the mighty Sove¬ 
reign of Karasme, their Lord, Protector, and King, and 
avenger of Allah and the Prophet, against all rebellious 
and evil-minded Jews and Giaours, was about io speak. 
There was a deep and universal silence, and then sounded 
a voice high as the eagle’s in a storm. 

‘ David Alroy ! ’ said his conqueror, ‘ you are brouglit 
liither this day neither for trial nor for judgment. 
Captured in arms against your rightful sovereign, you are 
of course prepared, like other rebels, for your doom. 


246 


ALROY. 


Such a crime alone deserves the most avenging punish¬ 
ments. What then do you merit, who are loaded with a 
thousand infamies, who have blasphemed Allah and the 
Prophet, and, by the practice of magic arts and the aid of 
the infernal powers, have broken the peace of kingdoms, 
occasioned infinite bloodshed, outraged all law, religion, 
and decency, misled the minds of your deluded votaries, 
and especially by a direct compact with Eblis, by horrible 
spells and infamous incantations, captivated the senses of 
an illustrious Princess, heretofore famous for the practice of 
every virtue, and a descendant of the Prophet himself. 

‘ Behold these stakes of palm-wood, sharper than a lance! 
The most terrible retribution that human ingenuity has 
devised for the guilty awaits you. But your crimes baffle 
all human vengeance. Look forward for j^our satisfactory 
reward to those infernal powers by whose dark co-opera¬ 
tion you have occasioned such disasters. Your punish¬ 
ment is public, that all men may know that the guilty 
never escape, and that, if your heart be visited by the 
slightest degree of compunction for your numerous victims, 
you may this day,, by the frank confession of the irresistible 
means by which you seduced them, exonerate your victims 
from the painful and ignominious end with which, through 
your influence, they are now threatened. Mark, 0 as¬ 
sembled people, the infinite mercy of the Vicegerent of 
Allah I He allows the wretched man to confess his infamy, 
and to save, by his confession, his unfortunate victims. I 
have said it. Glory to Allah ! ’ 

And the people shouted, ‘ He has said it, he has said it 1 
Glory to Allah 1 He is great, he is great 1 and Mahomet 
is his prophet 1 ’ 

‘ Am I to speak ? ’ inquired Alroy, when the tumult had 
subsided. The melody of his voice commanded universal 
attention. 

Alp Arslan nodded his head in approbation. 

‘ King of Karasme I I stand here accused of many 
crimes. Now hear my answers. ’Tis said I am a rebel. 
My answer is, I am a Prince as thou art, of a sacred race, 


ALEOY. 


247 


and far more ancient. I owe fealtj to no one but to my 
God, and if I have broken that I am yet to learn that Alp 
Arslan is the avenger of His power. As for thy God and 
Prophet, I know not them, though they acknowledge 
mine. ’Tis well understood in every polity, my people 
stand apart from other nations, and ever will, in spite of 
suffering. So much for blasphemy ; I am true to a deep 
faith of ancient days, which even the sacred writings of 
thy race still reverence. For the arts magical I practised, 
and the communion with infernal powers ’tis said I held, 
know. King, I raised the standard of my hiith by the 
direct commandment of my God, the great Creator of the 
universe. What need of magic, then ? What need of 
paltering Avith petty fiends, when backed by His omnipo¬ 
tence ? ]\Iy magic was His inspiration. Need I prove 
why, with such aid, my people crowded round me? The 
time will come Avhen from out our ancient seed, a worthier 
chief will rise, not to be quelled even by thee. Sire. 

‘ For that unhappy Princess of whom something was 
said (with no great mercy, as it seemed to me), that lady is 
my Avife, my Avilling wife; the daughter of a Caliph, still 
my Avife, although your stakes may make her soon a 
Avido^A^ I stand not here to account for female fancies. 
BelieAm me, Sire, she gave her beauty to my raptured arms 
Avith no persuasions but such as became a soldier and a 
king. It may seem strange to thee upon thy throne, that 
the fioAver of Asia should be plucked by one so vile as I am. 
Remember, the accidents of Fortune are most strange. I 
Avas not ahvays Avhat I am. We liaA^e met before. There 
Avas a day, and that too not long since, Avhen, but for the 
treachery of some knaves I mark here. Fortune seemed 
half inclined to reverse our fates. Had I conquered, I 
trust I should liaAm shoAvn more mercy.’ 

The King of Karasme Avas the most passionate of men. 
lie had made a speech according to the advice and instruc¬ 
tions of his councillors, Avho had assured him that the tone 
he adopted AA’oiild induce Alroy to confess all that he 
required, and especially to Auudicate the reputation of the 


248 


ALKOY. 


Princess Scliirene, who had already contrived to persiiado 
Alp Arslan that she was the most injured of her sex. The 
King of Karasme stamped thrice on the platform of his 
throne, and exclaimed with great fire, ‘ By my beard, ye 
have deceived me ! The dog has confessed nothing ! ’ 

All the councillors and chief captains, and the Moollahs, 
and the Imams, and the Cadis, and the jDrincipal personages 
of the city were in consternation. They immediately con¬ 
sulted together, and, after much disputation, agreed that, 
before they proceeded to extremities, it was expedient to 
prove what the prisoner would not confess. A venerable 
Scheik, clothed in flowing robes of green, with a long 
white beard, and a turban like the tower of Babel, then 
rose. His sacred reputation procured silence while he 
himself delivered a long prayer, supplicating Allah and the 
Prophet to confound all blaspheming Jews and Giaours, 
and to pour forth words of truth from the mouths of 
religious men. And then the venerable Scheik summoned 
all witnesses against David Alroy. Immediately advanced 
Kisloch the Kourd, who, being placed in an eminent posi¬ 
tion, the Cadi of Bagdad drew forth a scroll from his velvet 
bag, and read to him a deposition, wherein the worthy 
Kisloch stated that he first became acquainted with the 
prisoner, David Alroy, in some ruins in the desert, the 
haunt of banditti, of whom Alroy was the chief; that he, 
Kisloch, was a reputable merchant, and that his caravan 
had been plundered by these robbers, and he himself cap¬ 
tured; that, on the second night of his imprisonment, 
Alroy appeared to him in the likeness of a lion, and on the 
third, of a bull with fiery eyes ; that he was in the habit of 
constantly transforming himself; that he frequently raised 
spints; that, at lengtli, on one terrible night, Eblis himself 
came in great procession, and presented Alroy with the 
sceptre of Solomon Ben Daoud; and that the next day 
Alroy raised his standard, and soon after massacred Hassan 
Subah and his Seljuks, by the visible aid of many terrible 
demons. 

Calidas the Indian, the Guebre, and the Kegro, and a 


ALROY. 


249 


few congeuial spirits, wore not eclipsed in the satisfactory 
character of their evidence by the luminous testimony of 
Kisloch the Kourd. The irresistible career of the Hebrew 
conqueror was undeniably accounted for, and the honour of 
Moslem arms, and the purity of Moslem faith, were esta¬ 
blished in their pristine glory and all their unsullied repu¬ 
tation. David Alroy was proved to be a child of Eblis, a 
sorcerer, and a dealer in charms and magical poisons. The 
people listened with horror and with indignation. They 
would have burst through the guards and torn him in 
pieces, had not they been afraid of the Karasmian battle- 
axes. So they consoled themselves wdth the prospect of 
liis approaching tortures. 

The Cadi of Bagdad bowed himself before the King of 
Karasme, and whispered at a respectful distance in the 
royal ear. The trumpets sounded, the criers enjoined 
silence, and the royal lips again moved. 

‘ Hear, 0 ye people, and be wise. The chief Cadi is 
about to read the deposition of the royal Princess Schirene, 
chief victim of the sorcerer.’ 

And the deposition was read, which stated that David 
Alroy possessed, and wore next to his heart, a talisman, 
given him by Eblis, the virtue of which was so great that, 
if once it were pressed to the heart of any woman, she was 
no longer mistress of her will. Such had been the un¬ 
happy fate of the daughter of the Commander of the 
Faithful. 

‘ Is it so written ? ’ inquired the captive. 

‘ It is so written,’ replied the Cadi, ‘ and bears the im¬ 
perial signature of the Princess.’ 

‘ It is a forgery.’ 

The King of Karasme started from his throne, and in 
his rage nearly descended its steps. His face was like 
scarlet, liis beard was like a flame. A favourite minister 
ventured gently to restrain the royal robe. 

‘Kill the dog on the spot,’ muttered the King of 
Karasmt\ 

‘ The Princess is herself here,’ said the Cadi, ‘ to bear 


250 


ALROY. 


witness to the spells of wliicli slie was a victim, but from 
whicli, by the power of Allah and the Prophet, she is now 
released.’ 

Alroy started! 

‘ Advance, royal Princess,’ said the Cadi, ‘ and, if the 
deposition thou hast heard be indeed true, condescend to 
hold up the imperial hand that adorned it with thy 
signature.’ 

A band of eunuchs near the throne gave way ; a female 
figure veiled to her feet appeared. She held up her hand 
amid the breathless agitation of the whole assembly ; the 
ranks of the eunuchs again closed ; a shriek was heard, 
and the veiled figure disappeared. 

‘ I am ready for thy tortures. King,’ said Alroy, in a 
tone of deep depression. His firmness appeared to have 
deserted him. His eyes were cast upon the ground. 
Apparently he was buried in profound thought, or had 
delivered himself up to despair.- 

‘ Prepare the stakes,’ said Alp Arslan. 

All involuntarj^, but universal, shudder might be dis¬ 
tinguished through the whole assembly. 

A slave advanced and offered Alroy a scroll. He recog¬ 
nised the Nubian who belonged to Honain. His former 
minister informed him that he was at hand, that the terms 
he offered in the dungeon might even yet be granted ; that 
if Alroy would, as he doubted not, as he entreated him, 
accept them, ho was to place the scroll in his bosom, but 
that if he were still inexorable, still madly determined on 
a horrible and ignominious end, he was to tear the scroll 
and throw it in to the arena. Instantly Alroy took the 
scroll, and with great energy tore it into a thousand 
pieces. A puff of wind carried the fragments far and 
wide. The mob fought for these last memorials of David 
Alroy, and this little incident occasioned a great con¬ 
fusion. 

In the meantime the negroes prepared the instruments 
of torture and of death. 

‘ The obstinacy of this Jewish dog makes me mad,’ said 


ALKOY. 


251 


the Ehng of Karasme to his courtiers. ‘ I will hold some 
parley with liim before he dies.’ The favourite minister 
entreated his sovereign to be content; but the royal beard 
grew so red, and the royal eyes flashed forth such terrible 
sparks of Are, that even the favourite minister at length 
gave way. 

The trumpet sounded, the criers called silence, and the 
voice of Alp Arslan was again heard. 

‘ Tbou dog, dost see wbat is preparing for thee ? Dost 
know what awaits thee in the halls of thy master Eblis ? 
Can a Jew be influenced even by false pride ? Is not life 
sweet ? Is it not better to be my slipper-bearer than to 
be impaled ? ’ 

‘ ^Magnanimous Alp Arslan,’ replied Alroy in a tone of 
undisguised contempt; ‘ thinkest thou that any torture can 
be equal to the recollection that I have been conquered by 
thee ? ’ 

‘ By my beard, he mocks me ! ’ exclaimed the Karasmian 
monarch, ‘ he defies me! Touch not my robe. I will 
parley with him. Ye see no farther than a hooded hawk, 
ye sons of a blind mother. Tliis is a sorcerer; he hath yet 
some master spell; he will yet save himself. He will fly 
into the air, or sink into the earth. He laughs at our 
tortures.’ The King of Karasme precipitately descended 
the steps of his throne, followed by his favourite minister, 
and his councillors, and chief captains, and the Cadis, and 
the Moollahs, and the Imams, and the principal personages 
of the city. 

‘Sorcerer!’ exclaimed Alp Arslan, ‘insolent sorcerer! 
base son of a base mother 1 dog of dogs ! dost thou defy 
us ? Does thy master Eblis whisper hope ? Dost thou 
laugh at our punishments ? Wilt thou fly into the air ? 
wilt thou sink into the earth ? eh, eh ? Is it so, is it so ? ’ 
The breathless monarch ceased, from the exhaustion of 
passion. He tore his beard out by the roots, he stamped 
with uncontrollable rage. 

‘ Thou art wiser than thy councillors, royal Arslan; I do 
defy thee. My master, although not Eblis, has not deserted 


252 


alroy; 


me, I laugli afc tliy puuishmeiits. Thy toi*tures I desjDise. 
I shall both sink into the earth and mount into the air. Art 
thou answered ? ’ 

‘ By my beard,’ exclaimed the enraged Arslan, ‘ I am an¬ 
swered. Let Eblis save thee if he can and the King of 
Karasme, the most famous master of the sabre in Asia, 
drew his blade like lightning from its sheath, and took oft’ 
the head of Alroy at a stroke. It fell, and, as it fell, a smile 
of triumphant derision seemed to play upon the dying 
features of the hero, and to ask of his enemies, ‘ Where 
now are all your tortures r ’ 


NOTES TO ALROY, 


Note 1, page 3. — JFc shall yet see an ass mount a ladder, 

Hebrew proverb. 

Note 2, page 10. — Our walls arc hung with flowers you love. 

It is the custom of the Hebrews in many of their festivals, especially 
in the feast of the Tabernacle, to hang the walls of their chambers with 
garlands of flowers. 

Note 3, page 11. — The traditionary tomh of Esther and Mordecai. 

‘ I accompanied the priest through the town over much ruin and rub¬ 
bish to an enclosed piece of ground, rather more elevated than any in 
its immediate vicinity. In the centre was the Jewish tomb—a square 
building of brick, of a mosqiie-like form, vath a rather elongated dome 
at the top. The door is in the ancient sepulchral fashion of tlie 
country, very small, consisting of a single stone of great thickness, 
and turning on its own pivots from one side. Its key is always in 
possession of the eldest of the Jew's resident at Hamadan. Within the 
tomb are two sarcophagi, made of a very dark -wood, carved with great 
intricacy of pattern and richness of twisted ornament, with a line of in¬ 
scription in Hebrew,’ &c.— 8ir Jx. K. Porter's Travels in Persia, vol. ii. 
p. 107. 

Note 4, page 13. — A marble fountain, the richly-carved cupola supported 
by twisted columns. 

The vast magnificence and elaborate fancy of the tombs and fountains 
is a remarkable feature of Oriental architecture. The Eastern nations 
devote to those structures the richest and the most durable materials. 
While the palaces of Asiatic monarchs are in general built only of wood, 
painted in fresco, the rarest marbles are dedicated to the sepulchre and 
the spring, which are often richly gilt, and adorned even with precious 
stones. 

Note 5, page 14. — The chorus of our maidens. 

It is still the custom for the women in the East to repair at sunset in 
company to the fountain for their supply of water. In Egypt, you 
may observe at tw’ilight the women descending the banks of the Nile 
in procession from every town and village. Their graceful drapery, 



254 


NOTES TO iVLROY. 


their long veils not concealing their flashing eyes, and the classical 
forms of their vases, render this a most picturesque and agreeable 
spectacle. 

Note 6, page 20. 

I describe the salty deserts of Persia, a locality -which my tale re¬ 
quired ; but I have ventured to introduce here, and in the subsequent 
pages, the principal characteristics of the great Arabian deserts: the 
mirage, the simt>om, the gazelle, the oasis. 

Note 7, page 23.— Jackals and marten-cat. 

At nightfall, especially in Asia Minor, the lonely horseman will 
often meet the jackals on their evening prowl. Their moaning is 
often heard during the night. I remember, when becalmed off Troy, 
the most singular screams were heard at intervals throughout the night, 
from a forest on the opposite shore, which a Greek sailor assured me 
proceeded from a marten-cat, which had probably found the carcass of 
some horse. 

Note 8, page 25. 

Elburz, or Elborus, the highest range of the Caucasus. 

Note 9 , page 26.— A circular and brazen table, sculptured with strange 

characters and mysterious figures ; near it was a couch, on which lay 

several volumes. 

A cabalistic table, perhaps a zodiac. The books were doubtless 
Scpher Happeliah, the Book of W onders ; Sephcr Hakkanch, the Book 
of the Pen ; and Scpher Habbahir, the Book of Light. This last unfolds 
the most sublime mysteries. 

Note 10, page 27.— Answered the Cabalist. 

‘Simeon ben Jochai, who flourished in the second century, and was a 
disciple of Akibha, is called by the Jews the Prince of the Cabalists. 
After the suppression of the sedition in which his master had been so 
unsuccessful, he concealed himself in a cave, where, according to the 
Jewish historians, he received revelations, which he afterwards delivered 
to his disciples, and wlrch they carefully preserved in the book called 
Sohar. His master, Akibha, who lived soon after the destruction of 
Jerusalem, was tlie author of the famous book Jezirah, quoted by the 
Je-W's as of Divine authority. When Akibha was far advanced in life, 
appeared the famous impostor Barchochebas, who, under the character 
of the Messiah, promised to deliver his countrymen from the power of 
the Emperor Adrian. Akibha espoused his cause, and afforded him the 
protection and support of his name, and an army of two hundred thou¬ 
sand men repaired to his standard. The Romans at first slighted the 
insurrection ; but when they found the insurgents spread slaughter and 
rapine wherever they came, they sent out a military force against them. 
At first, the issue of the contest was doubtful. The Messiah himself 
was not taken until the end of four years.’— Enfield, Philosophy of the 
Jews, vol. ii. 

‘ Two methods of instruction were in use among the Jews; the one 


NOTES TO ALROY. 


255 


public, or rxnferic; the other secret, or esoteric. The exoteric doctrine 
■was that which was openly taught the people from the law of Moses 
and the traditions of the fathers. The esoteric was that which treated 
of the mysteries of the Divine nature, and other sublime subjects, and 
was known by the name of the Cabala. The latter was, after the man¬ 
ner of the Pythagorean and Egyptian mysteries, taught only to certain 
persons, who were bound, under the most solemn anathema, not to 
divulge it. Concerning the miraculous origin and preservation of the 
Cabala, the Jews relate many marvellous tales. They derive these 
mysteries from Adam, and assert that, while the first man was in 
Paradise, the angel Rasiel brought him a book from heaven, which con¬ 
tained the doctrines of heavenly wisdom, and that, when Adam received 
this book, angels came down to him to learn its contents, but that he 
refused to admit them to the knowledge of sacred things entrusted to 
him alone; that, after the Fall, this book was taken back into heaven; 
that, after many prayers and tears, God restored it to Adam, from whom 
it passed to Seth. In the degenerate ago before the flood this book was 
lost, and the mysteries it contained almost forgotten ; but they were 
rc'Stored by special revelation to Abraham, who committed them to 
writing in the book Jezirah'—Vide Enjidd, vol. ii. p. 219. 

‘The Hebrew woi’d Catxda' says Dom Calmet, ‘signifies tradition, 
and the Rabbins, who are named Cabalists, apply themselves principally 
to the combination of certain words, numbers, and letters, by the means 
of which they boasted they could reveal the future, and penetrate the 
sense of the most difficult passages of Scripture. This science does not 
appear to have any fixed principles, but depends upon certain ancient 
traditions, whence its name Catxda. The Cabalists have a great num¬ 
ber of names which they style sacred, by means of which they raise 
spirits, and affect to obtain supernatural intelligence.’—See Calmet, art. 
Caba 'a. 

‘ We spake before,’ says Lightfoot, ‘ of the commonness of Magick 
among them, one singular means whereby they kept their own in delu¬ 
sion, and whei’fby they affront(*d ours. The general expectation of the 
nation of Messias coining when he did, had this double and contrary 
effect, that it fonvarded those that belonged to God to believe and re¬ 
ceive the Gospel; and those that did not, it gave encouragement to some 
to take upon them they were Christ or some great prophet, and to others 
it gave some persuasion to be deluded by them These deceivers dealt 
most of them witli Magick, and that cheat ended not when Jerusalem 
ended, though one would have thought that had been a firir term of not 
further expecting Messias; but, since the people were willing to be de¬ 
ceived by'such expectation, there rose up deluders still that were willing 
to deceive them.’— Lightfoot, vol. ii. p. 371. 

For many curious details of the Cabalistic Magic, Vide Basnage, vol. v. 
p. 384, &c. 

Note 11, page 28. —Bead the stars no longer. 

‘ The modern Jews,’ says Basnage, ‘ have a great idea of the influence 
of the stars.’ Vol. iv. p. 4o4. But astrology was most prevalent among 
the Babylonian Rabbins, of whom Jabaster was one. Living in the 
ancient land of the Chaldeans, these sacred eages imbibed a taete for 


25G 


NOTES TO ALEOY. 


tho mystic loro of tlieir predecessors. The stars moved, and formed 
letters and lines, when consulted by any of the highly-initiated of the 
Cabalists. This they styled the Celestial Alj)habet. 


Note 12, page 32. —The Daughter of the Voice. 

‘ Both the Talmudick and the latter Eabbins,’ says Lightfoot, ‘ make 
frequent mention of Bath Kol, or FUia Vocis, or an echoing voice which 
served under the second temple for their utmost refuge of revelation. 
For when Urim and Thummim, the oracle, was ceased, and prophecy 
was decayed and gone, they had, as they say, certain strange and ex¬ 
traordinary voices upon certain extraordinary occasions, wdiicli were 
their warnings and advertisements in some special matters. Infinite 
instances of this might be adduced, if they might be believed. Now hero 
it may be questioned why they called it Bath Kol, the daughter of a 
voice, and not a voice itself? If the strictness of the Hebrew word 
Bath be to be stood iipon, which always it is not, it may be answered, 
that it is called the Daughter of a Voice in relation to the oracles of 
Urim and Thummim. For whereas that was a voice given from off the 
mercy-seat, within the vail, and this, upon the decay of that oracle, 
came as it were in its place, it might not unfitly or improperly be 
called a daughter, or successor of that voice.’— Lightfoot, vol. i. pp. 485, 
486. 

Consult also the learned Doctor, vol. ii. pp. 128, 129 : ‘It was used 
for a testimony from heaven, but was indeed performed by magic 
art.’ 


Note 13, page 37 .—The walls and turrets of an extensive city. 

In Persia, and the countries of the Tigris and Euphrates, the traveller 
sometimes arrives at deserted cities of great magnificence and antiquity. 
Such, for instance, is tho city of Anneh. I suppose Alroy to have 
entered one of the deserted capitals of tho Seleucidse. They are in 
general the haunt of bandits. 


Note 14, page 41 .—Dunctured his arm. 

From a story told by an Arab. 

Note 15, page 44.— The pilgrim could no longer sustain himself. 

An endeavour to paint the simoom. 

Note 16, page 45 .—By the holy stone. 

The Caaba.—The Caaba is the same to tho Mahomedan as tho 
Holy Sepulchre to the Christian. It is the most unseemly, but tho 
most sacred, part of the mosque at Mecca, and is a small, square stone 
building. 

Note 17, page 47 .—I am a Hakim; 

i.e. Physician, an almost sacred character in the East. As all English¬ 
men travel with medicine-chcsts, the Turks are not to bo wondered at 
for considering us physicians. 


NOTES TO ALEOY. 


257 


Notk 18, page 49.— Threw iheir loanton jerreeds in the air. 

The Per.sians ai’o more famous for throwing the jerreedthan any otlier 
nation. A Persian gentleman, wliile riding quietly by your side, will 
suddenly dash otFat full gallop, then suddenly check his horse, and take 
a long aim with his lance with admirable precision, I should doubt, 
however, whether he could hurl a lance a greater distance or with greater 
force and effect than a Nubian, who will fix a mark at sixty yards with 
his javelin. 

Note 19, page 49.— Some pounded coffee. 

The origin of the use of coffee is obscure ; but there is great reason to 
believe that it had not been introduced in the time of Alroy. When we 
consider that the life of an Oriental at the present day mainly consists 
in drinking coffee and smoking tobacco, we cannot refrain from asking 
ourselves, ‘ What did he do before either of these comparatively modern 
inventions was discovered?’ For a longtime, I was inclined to suspect 
that tobacco might have been in use in Asia before it M'as introduced 
into Europe; but a passage in old Sandys, in which he mentions the 
wretched tobacco smoked in Turkey, and accounts for it by that countiy 
being supplied with ‘ the dregs of our markets,’ demonstrates that, in his 
time, there was no native growth in Asia. Yet the choicest tobaccoes 
are now grown on the coast of Syria, the real Levant. But did the 
Asiatics smoke any other plant or substance before tobacco ? In Syria, 
at the present day, they smoke a plant called zfmirtc ; the Chinese smoke 
opium ; the artificial preparations for the hookah are known to all Indians. 
I believe, however, that these are all refinements, and for this reason, 
that in the classic writers, who were as Avell acquainted with the Oriental 
nations as ourselves, we find no allusion to the practice of smoking. The 
anachronism of the pipe I have not therefore ventured to commit, and 
tliat of coffee will, I trust, be pardoned. 

Note 20, page 49.— V/ilder gestures of the dancing girls. 

These dancing girls abound throughout Asia. The most famous are 
the Almeh of Egypt, and the Nautch of India. These last are a caste, 
the first only a profession. 

. Note 21, page 54.— For thee the bastinado. 

The ba.stinado is the common punishment of the East, and an effective 
and dreaded one. It is administered on the soles of the feet, the instru¬ 
ment a long cane or palm-branch. Public executions are very rare. 

Note 22, page 62.— A door of tortoiseshell and mother-F-fearl. 

This elegant mode of inlay is common in Oriental palaces, and may 
be observed also in Alhambra, at Granada. 

Note 23, page G2.--A vaulted, circular, and highly embossed roof, of 
imrffe, scarlet, and gold. 

In the very first style of Saracenic architecture. See the Hall of the 
Ambassadors in Alhambra, and many other chambers in that exquisite 
creation. 


si 


258 


NOTES TO ALROY. 


Note 24, p. 63. — Nubian eunuchs dressed in rich habits of scarlet and gold. 

Thus the guard of Nubian Eunuchs of the present Pacha of Egypt, 
Mehemet Ali, or rather Caliph, a title which he wishes to assume. They 
ride upon white horses. 

Note 25, page 63.— A quadrangular court of roses. 

So in Alhambra, ‘ The Court of Myrtles,’ leading to the Court of 
Columns, wherein is the famous Eountain of Lions. 

Note 26, page 63.— An Abyssinian giant. 

A giant is still a common appendage to an Oriental court even at the 
present day. See a very amusing story in the picturesque ‘ Persian 
Sketches’ of that famous elchee, Sir John Malcolm. 

Note 27, page 64.— Surrounded by figures of every rare quadruyed. 

‘ The hall of audience,’ says Gibbon, from Cardonne, speaking of the 
magnificence of the Saracens of Cordova, ‘ was encrusted with gold and 
pearls, and a great basin in the centre was surrounded with the curious 
and costly figures of birds and quadrupeds.’— Decline and Fall, vol. 
X. p. 39. 

Note 28, page 64.— A tree of gold and silver. 

‘ Among the other spectacles of rare and stupendous luxury was a tree 
of gold and silver, spreading into eighteen large branches, on which, and 
on the lesser boughs, sat a variety of birds made of the same precious 
metals, as well as the leaves of the tree. While the machinery effected 
spontaneous motions, the several birds warbled their natural harmony.’— 
Gibbon, vol. x. p. 38, from Abulfeda, describing the court of the Caliphs 
of Bagdad in the decline of their power. 

Note 29, page 65.— Four hundred men led as many white bloodhounds, 
with collars of gold and rubies. 

I have somewhere read of an Indian or Persian monarch whose coursing 
was conducted in this gorgeous style: if I remember right, it was Mah¬ 
moud the Gaznevide. 

Note 30, page 65.— A steed marked on its forehead with a star. 

The sacred steed of Solomon. 

Note 31, page 66.— Instead of water, each basin was replenished with 
'purest quicksilver. 

‘ In a lofty pavilion of the gardens, one of those basins and fountains 
BO delightful in a sultry climate, was replenished, not with water, but 
with the purest quicksilver.’— Gibbon, vol. x. from Cardonne. 

Note 32, page 66.— Flaying with a rosary of pearls and emeralds. 

Moslems of rank are never without the rosary, sometimes of amber 
and rare woods, sometimes of jewels. The most esteemed is of that 
peculiar substance called Mecca wood. 


NOTES TO ALEOY. 


259 


Note 33, page 66.— The diamond hilt of a small poniard. 

The insignia of a royal female. 

Note 34, page 70.— You have been at Paris. 

Paris was known to the Orientals at this time as a city of considerable 
luxury and importance. The Embassy from Haroun Alraschid to Charle¬ 
magne, at an earlier date, is of course recollected. 

Note 35, page 76.— At lengiih beheld the lost capital of his fathers. 

The finest view of Jerusalem is from the Mount of Olives. It is little 
altered since the period when David Alroy is supposed to have gazed 
upon it, but it is enriched by the splendid Mosque of Omar, built by tlio 
Moslem conquerors on the supposed site of the temple, and which, with 
its gardens, and arcades, and courts, and fountains, may fairly be de¬ 
scribed as the most imposing of Moslem fanes. I endeavoured to enter 
it at the hazard of my life. 1 was detected, and surrounded by a crowd 
of turbaned fanatics, and escaped with difficulty; but I saw enough to 
feel that minute inspection would not belie the general character I formed 
of it from the Mount of Olives. I caught a glorious glimpse of splendid 
courts, and light airy gates of Saracenic triumph, flights of noble steps, 
long arcades, and interior gardens, where silver fountains spouted their 
tall streams amid the taller cypresses. 

Note 36, page 76.— Entered Jerusalem by the gate of Sion. 

The gate of Sion still remains, and from it you descend into the 
valley of Siloah. 

Note 37, page 79.— Kmg Pirgandicus. 

According to a Talmudical story, however, of which I find a note, this 
monarch was not a Hebrew but a G-entile, and a very wicked one. He 
once invited eleven famous doctors of the holy nation to supper. They 
were received in the most magnificent style, and were then invited, under 
pain of death, either to eat pork, to accept a pagan mistress, or to drink 
wine consecrated to idols. After long consultation, the doctors, in great 
tribulation, agreed to save their heads by accepting the last alterna¬ 
tive, since the two first were forbidden by the law of Moses, and the 
last only by the Eabbins. The King assented, the doctors drank the 
impure wine, and, as it was exceedingly good, drank freely. The wine, 
as w'ill sometimes happen, created a terrible appetite; the table was 
covered with dishes, and the doctors, heated by the grape, were not 
sufficiently careful of what they partook. In short, the wicked King 
Pirgandicus contrived that they should sup off pork, and being carried 
from the table quite tipsy, each of the eleven had the mortification of 
finding himself next morning in the arms of a pagan mistress. 

In the course of the year all the eleven died sudden deaths, and this 
visitation occurred to them, not because they had violated the law of 
Moses, but because they believed that the precepts of the Eabbins could 
be outraged with more impunity than the Word of God. 

Note 38, page 79.— And conquered Julius Ccesar. 

This classic hero often figures in the erratic pages of the Talmud, 

s 2 


2G0 


NOTES TO ALEOY. 


Note 39, page 79 .—The Tombs of the Kings. 

The present pilgrim to Jerusalem will have less trouLle than Alroy in 
discovering the Tombs of the Kings, though he probably w’ould not as 
easily obtain the sceptre of Solomon. The tombs that bear this title 
are of the time of the Asmonean princes, and of a more ambitious cha¬ 
racter than any other of the remains. An open court, about fifty feet 
in breadth, and extremely deep, is excavated out of the rock. One side 
is formed by a portico, the frieze of which is sculptured in a good Syro- 
Greek style. There is no grand portal; you crawl into the tombs by a 
small opening on one of the sides. There are a few small chambers 
with niches, recesses, and sarcophagi, some sculptured in the same fiow- 
ing style as the frieze. This is the most important monument at Jeru¬ 
salem ; and Dr. Clarke, who has lavished wonder and admiration on the 
tombs of Zachariah and Absalom, has declared the Tombs of the Kings 
to be one of the marvellous productions of antiquity. 

Note 40.—Page 80. 

‘ Kahhi Hillel was one of the eminentest that ever was among the 
Jewish Doctors, both for birth, learning, rule, and children. He was of 
the seed of David by his mother’s side, being of the posterity of 
Shephatiah, the son of Abital, David’s wife. He was brought up in 
Babel, from whence he came up to Jerusalem at forty years old, and 
there studied the law forty years more under Shemaiah and Abtalion, 
and after them he was President of the Sanhedrim forty years more. 
The beginning of his Presidency is generally concluded upon to have 
been .just one hundred years before the Temple was destroyed; by 
wdiich account he began eight-and-twenty years before our Saviour was 
born, and died when he was about twelve years old. He is renowned 
for his fourscore scholars.”— Lightfoot, vol. ii. p. 2008. 

The great rival of Hillel was Shammai. Their controversies, and the 
fierceness of their partisans, are a principal feature of Kabbinical history. 
They were the same as the Scotists and Thomists. At last the Bath 
Kol interfered, and decided for Hillel, but in a spirit of conciliatory 
dexterity. Tlie Bath Kol came forth and spake thus : ‘ The words both 
of the one party and the other are the words of the living God, but the 
certain decision of the matter is according to the decrees of the school 
of Hillel. And henceforth, whoever shall transgress the decrees of the 
school of Hillel is punishable with death.’ 

Note 41, page 82.—^ number of small, square, low chambers. 

These excavated cemeteries, which abound in Palestine and Egypt, 
were often converted into places of worship by the Jews and early 
Christians. Sandys thus describes the Synagogue at Jerusalem in his 
time. 

Note 42, page 83 .—Their heads mystically covered. 

The Hebrews cover their heads during their prayers with a sacred 
ohawl. 

Note 43, page SZ.—Expounded the law to the congregation of the 'pcofe. 

The custom, I believe, even to the present day, among the Hebrews 
a remnant of their old academies, once so famous. 


NOTES TO ALIlOY. 


2G1 


Note 44, page 84.— The Valley of Jehoshajohat and the Tomh of Absalom. 

In the Yale of Jehoshaphat, among many other tombs, are two of 
considerable size, and which, although of a corrupt Grecian architecture, 
are dignihed by the titles of the tombs of Zachariah and Absalom. 

Note 45, page 86,— The scanty rill of Siloah. 

The sublime Siloah is now a muddy rill; you descend by steps to the 
fountain which is its soui'ce, and which is covered with an arch. Hero 
the blind man received his sight; and, singular enough, to this very 
day the healing reputation of its waters prevails, and summons to its 
brink all those neighbouring Arabs who sutler from the ophthalmic 
atlections not uncommon in this part of the world. 

Note 46, page 86,— Several isolated tombs of considerable size. 

There are no remains of ancient Jerusalem, or the ancient Jews, 
Some tombs there are which may be ascribed to the Asmonean princes; 
but all the monuments of David, Solomon, and their long posterity, have 
utterly disappeared. 

Note 47, page 87.— Are cut strange characters and unearthly forms. 

As at Benihassan, and many other of the sculptured catacombs of 
Egypt. 

Note 48, page 88.— A crowd of hats rushed forward and extinguished 

his torch. 

In entering the Temple of Dendera, our torches were extinguished by 
a crowd of bats. 

Note 49, page 88.— The gcdlery was of great extent, with a gradual 

dcclincdion. 

So in the great Egyptian tombs. 

Note 50, page 89.— The Afrite, for it was one of those dread beings. 

Beings of a monstrous form, the most terrible of all the orders of tho 
Dives. 

Note 51, page 89.— An avenue of colossal lions of red granite. 

An avenue of Sphinxes more than a mile in length connected tlie 
quarters of Luxoor and Carnak in Egyptian Thebes. Its fragments re¬ 
main. Many other avenues of Sphinxes and lion-headed Kings may be 
observed in various parts of Upper Egypt. 

Note 52, page 91.— A stupendous fort al, cut out of the solid rock, four 
hundred feet in height, and supported by clusters of colossal Caryatides. 

See the great rock temple of Ipsambul in Lower Nubia. The sitting 
colossi are nearly seventy feet in height. But there is a Torso of a 
statue of Eameses the Second at Thebes, vulgarly called tho great 
Memnon, which measures upwards of sixty feet round the shoulders. 


262 


NOTES TO ALKOY. 


Note 63, page 92.— Fifty steps of ivory, and each step guarded hy golden 

lions. 

See 1st Kings, chap. x. 18-20. 

Note 54, page 101.— Crossed the desert on a fleet dromedary. 

The difference between a camel and a dromedary is the difference 
between a hack and a thorough-bred horse. There is no other. 

Note 55, page 102.— That celestial alphabet known to the true Cabalist. 

See Note 11. 

Note 66, page 112.— The last of the Seljuks had expired. 

The Orientals are famous for their massacres: that of the Mamlouks 
by the present Pacha of Egypt, and of the Janissaries of the Sultan, are 
notorious. But one of the most terrible, and effected under the most 
difficult and dangerous circumstances, was the massacre of the Albanian 
Beys by the Grand Vizir, in the autumn of 1830. I was in Albania at 
the time. 


Note 67, page 115.— The minarets were illumined. 

So, I remember, at Constantinople, at the commencement of 1831, at 
the departure of the Mecca caravan, and also at the annual feast of 
Eamadan. 

Note 58, page 117.— One asking alms with a wire run through his cheek. 
Not uncommon. These Dervishes frequent the bazaars. 

Note 59, page 121.— One hundred thousand warriors were now assembled. 

In countries where the whole population are armed, a vast military 
force is soon assembled. Barchochebas was speedily at the head of two 
hundred thousand fighting men, and held the Homans long in check 
under one of their most powerful emperors. 

Note 60, page 121.— Some high-capped Tatar with despatches. 

I have availed myself of a familiar character in Oriental life, but the 
use of a Tatar as a courier in the time of Alroy is, I fear, an ana¬ 
chronism. 

Note 61, page 122.— Each day some warlike Atabek, at the head of his 
armed train, poured into the capital of the Caliphs. 

I was at Yanina, the capital of Albania, when the Grand Vizir sum¬ 
moned the chieftains of the country, and was struck by their magnificent 
arrays each day pouring into the city. 

Note 62, page 129 .—It is the Sabbath eve. 

‘ They began their Sabbath from sunset, and the same time of day 
they ended it.’— Talm. Hierosolym. in Sheveith, fol. 33, col. 1. 

The eve of the Sabbath, or the day before, was called the day of the 
preparation for the Sabbath.— Luke xxiii. 54. 


NOTES TO ALEOY. 


263 


‘ And from the time of the evening sacrifice and forward, they began to 
fit themselves for the Sabbath, and to cease from their works, so as net 
to go to the barber, not to sit in judgment, &c.; nay, thenceforward 
they would not set things on working, which, being set a-work, would 
complete their business of themselves, unless it would be completed 
before the Sabbath came— as wool was not put to dye, unless it could take 
colour while it was yet day^ &c.— Talm. in Sab., par. 1; Lightfoot, vol. i. 

p. 218. 

‘ Towards sunsetting, when the Sabbath was now approaching, they 
lighted up the Sabbath lamp. Men and women were bound to have a 
lamp lighted up in their houses on the Sabbath, though they were never 
so poor—nay, though they were forced to go a-begging for oil for this 
purpose; and the lighting up of this lamp was a part of making the 
Sabbath a delight; and women were especially commanded to look to 
this business.’— Maimonides in Sab., par. 36. 

Note 63, page 132.— The presence of the robes of honour. 

These are over carried in procession, and their number denotes the 
rank and quality of the chief, or of the individual to whom they are 
offered. 

Note 64, page 134.— Pressed it to his lips, and placed it in his vest. 

The elegant mode in which the Orientals receive presents. 

Note 65, page 138.— A cap of transparent pink porcelain, studded with 

pearls. 

Thus a great Turk, who afforded me hospitality, was accustomed to 
drink his coffee. 

Note 66, page 142.— Slippers powdered with pearls. 

The slippers in the East form a very fanciful portion of the costume. 
It is not uncommon to see them thus adorned and beautifully em¬ 
broidered. In precious embroidery and enamelling, the Turkish artists 
are unrivalled. 

Note 67, page 155.— The policy of the sonof Kareah. 

Vide Jeremiah, chap. xlii. 

Note 68, page 160.— The inviting gestures and the voluptuous grewe of 
the dancing girls of Egypt. 

A sculptor might find fine studies in the Egyptian Almeh. 

Note 69, page 163.— Six choice steeds sumptuously caparisoned. 

Led horses always precede a great man. I think there were usually 
twelve before the Sultan when he went to Mosque, which he did in 
public every Friday. 

Note 70, page 163.— Six Damascus sabres of unrivalled temper. 

But sabres are not to be found at Damascus, any more than cheeses 
at Stilton, or oranges at Malta. The art of watering the blade is, how¬ 
ever, practised, I believe, in Persia. A fine Damascus blade will fetch 
fifty’or even one hundred guineas English. 


264 


NOTES TO ALKOY. 


Note 71) page 164.— Hoses from liocnahad , 

A river in Pei’sia famous for its bowery banks of roses. 

Note 72, page 164.— Screens made of the feather of a roc. 

The screens and fans in the liiast, made of the pliunage of rare birdS; 
u ith jewelled handles, are very gorgeous. 

Note 73, page 165.— A tremulous aigrette of brilliants. 

Worn only by persons of the highest rank. The Sultan presented 
Lord Nelson after the Battle of the Nile with an aigrette of diamonds. 

Note 74, page 177.— To send him the whole of the next course. 

These compliments from the tables of the great are not uncommon in 
the East. When at the head-qimrters of the Grand Vizir at Vanma, 
liis Highness sent to myself and my travelling companions, a course 
from his table, singers and dancing girls. 

Note 75, page 178.— The golden wine of Mount Lebanon. 

A most delicious wine, from its colour, brilliancy, and rare flavour, 
justly meriting this title, is made on Lebanon ; but it will not, unfortu¬ 
nately, bear exportation, and even materially suffers in the voyage from 
the coast to Alexandria. 

Note 76, page 186.— And the company of gardeners. 

These gardeners of the Serail form a very efficient body of police. 

Note 77, page 190. — Alroy retired to the bath. 

The bath is a principal scene of Oriental life. Here the Asiatics 
pass a great portion of their day. The bath consists of a long suite of 
chambers of various temperatures, in which the different processes of 
the elaborate ceremony are performed. 

Note 78, page 195.— We are the watchers of the moon. 

The Least of the New Moon is one of the most important festivals of 
the Hebrews. ‘ Our year,’ says the learned author of the ‘ Kites and 
Ceremonies,’ ‘ is divided into twelve lunar months, some of which consist 
of twenty-nine, others of thirty days, which difference is occasioned by 
the various appearance of the new moon, in point of time; for if it 
appeared on the 30th day, the 29th was the last day of the precedent 
month; but if it did not appear till the 31st day, the 30th was the last 
day, and the 31 st the first of the subsequent month; and that was an 
intercalary moon, of all which take the following account. 

‘ Our nation heretofore, not only observing the rules of some fixed cal¬ 
culation, also celebrated the feast of the New Moon, according to the 
phasis or first appearance of the moon, which was done in compliance 
with God’s command, as our I'eceived traditions inform us. 

‘ Hence it came to pass that the first appearance was not to be deter¬ 
mined only by rules of art, but also by the testimony of such persons as 
deposed before the Sanhedrim, or Great Senate, that they had seen the 
New Moon. So a committee of three were appointed from among the 


NOTES TO ALEOY. 


2G5 


said Sanhedrim to receive the deposition of the parties aforesaid, -wlio, 
alter laaviug calculated what time the moon might possibly appear, dis¬ 
patched some persons into high and mountainous 'places, to observe and 
give their evidence accordingly, concerning the first appearance of the 
moon. 

‘ As soon as the new moon was either consecrated or appointed to be 
observed, notice was given by the Sanhedrim to the rest of the nation 
what day had been fixed for the New Moon, or first day of the month, 
because that was to be the rule and measure according to which they 
were obliged to keep their feasts and fasts in every month respectively. 

‘ This notice was given to them in time of peace, by firing of beacons, 
set up for that purpose, which was looked upon as the readiest way of 
communication, but, in time of war, when all places were full of enemies, 
who made use of beacons to amuse our nation with, it Avas thought fit to 
discontinue it.’ 

Note 79, page 221.— The women chatted at the fountain. 

The bath and the fountain are the favourite scenes of feminine con¬ 
versation. 

Note 80, page 222.— Flaying chess. 

On the Avails of the palace of Amenoph the Second, called Medeenct 
Abuh, at Egyptian Thebes, the King is represented playing chess with 
the Queen. This monarch reigned long before the Trojan Avar. 

Note 81, page 228.— Impeded. 

A friend of mine witnessed this horrible punishment in Upper Egypt. 
The victim Avas a man Avho had secretly muidered nine persons. He 
held an official post, and invited travellers and pilgrims to his house, 
whom he regularly disposed of and plundered. I regret that I have 
mislaid his MS. account of the ceremony. 

Note 82, page 2d2. 

In the Gernien Davidis of Ganz, translated into Latin by Vorstius, 
Lug. 16o4, is an extract from a Hebrew MS. containing an account of 
Alroy. I subjoin a passage respecting his death for the learned reader, 

* Scribit R. Maimonidcs, Multanian interrogasse ilium, num esset Messias, 
et dixisse, Sum, et queesivisse eib illo regem, quodnam signum hahes ? Et 
respondisse, ut prcecideret caput, et se in vitam reversurum. Tunc regem 
jussisse ut caput ejus amputarent, et obiisse; seel hoc illi dixisse, negravibus 
tormentis ipsum enecaret.’ 

‘ Septemannisantedecretumhoc,dequesupralocutisumus,habuerunt 
Israelitse vehementes angustias propter viruin Belial, qui seipsum fecit 
Messiam; etrex atque principes valde accensi sunt excandescentia contra 
Judaeos, ut dicerent, eos quserere interituni regni sui Messiae petitione. 
Maledicti hujus nomen vocatum fuit David El-David, aut Alroy, ex urbe 
Omadia; et erat ibi coetus magnus, circiter mille familias divites,refertas, 
honestas et felices continens. Atque Ecclesia hseceratprincipium coetuum 
habitantium circa fluvium Sabbathion, a‘que erant plus quam centum 
Ecclesiao. Erat hie initium regiouis Mediee, atque lingua eorum erafc 


266 


NOTES TO ALEOY. 


idioma Thargum: inde aiitem usque ad regionem Golan est iter 50 dierum, 
et sunt sub imperio Kegis Persiae, cui dant quotannis tributum a 15 
annis et ultra aureum unum. Vir autem hie David El-David studuit 
coram principe captivitatis Chasdai et coram excellente Scholarcha in 
urbe Bagdad, qui eximius erat sapiens in Thalmude et omnibus seientiis 
exoticis, atque in omnibus libris diviuatorum, magorum et Chaldaeorum. 
Hie vero David El-David ex audacia et arrogantia cordis sui elevavit 
manum contra regem, et collegit Judaeos habitantes in monte Chophtan, 
et seduxit eos, ut exirent in praelium cum omnibus gentibus. Ostendit 
iis signa; sed ignorabant quanam virtute: erant enim homines, qui 
asserebant istud per modum magiae et praestigiationis fieri; alii dicebant, 
potentiam ejus maguam esse propter manum Dei. Qui consortium ejus 
veniebant, vocabant eum Messiam, eumque laudabant et extollebant. 
*»#*** 

“In regno Persiae alio quodam tempore surrexit vir quidam Judaeus, 
et seipsum fecit Messiam, atque valde prospere egit; et numerosus ex 
Israele ad ilium confluxit populus. Cum viro audiret rex omnem ejus 
poteniiam, atque propositum ejus esse descendere in praelium cum ipso, 
misit ad Judaeos congregates in regione sua, iisque dixit: Nisi egerint 
cum hocce viro, ut e medio toUatur, certo sciant, se eos omnes gladio 
iuterempturum, et uno die infantes ac feeminas deleturum. Tunc con¬ 
gregates est totes populus Israelis simul, atque contendit ad virum ilium, 
ceciditque coram illo in terram: vehementer supplicatus est, clamavit 
atque ploravit, ut reverteretur a via sua: et cur seipsum et omnes afflictos 
conjiceret in periculum: jam enim regem jurasse se immissurum eis gla- 
dium, et quomodo posset intueri afflictionem omnium ccetuum Persiae. 
Eespondit: Veni servatum vos, et non vultis. Quern metuistis ? Quisnam 
coram me consisted Et quid aget rex Per sice, ut non reformidet me, 
et gladium meum ? Interrogarunt eum, quodnam signum haberet quod 
esset Messias: Eespondit, quia feliciter eem geeeret, neque Messiam 
OPUS habere auio signo. Eesponderunt multos similiter egisse, neque 
prospera usos fuisse fortund; tunc rejecit eos a facie sua cum superba 
uidignatioue.’ 


IXION IN HEAVEN, 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


‘Ixion, King of Thessaly, famous for its horses, married Dia, 
daughter of Deioneus, who, iu consequence of his son-in-law’s non- 
fulfilment of his engagements, stole away some of the monarch’s 
steeds. Ixion concealed his resentment under the mask of friend¬ 
ship. He invited his father-in-law to a feast at Larissa, the 
capital of his kingdom; and when Deioneus arrived according to 
his appointment, he threw him into a pit which he had previously 
filled with burning coals. This treachery so irritated the neigh¬ 
bouring princes, that all of them refused to perform the usual 
ceremony, by which a man was then purified of murder, and Ixion 
was shunned and despised by all mankind. Jupiter had compassion 
upon him, carried him to heaven, and introduced him to the Father 
of the Gods. Such a favour, which ought to have awakened 
gratitude in Ixion, only served to inflame his bad passions ; he 
became enamoured of Juno, and attempted to seduce her. Juno 
was willing to gratify the passion of Ixion, though, according to 
others,’ &c .—Classical Dictionary, art. ^ IxionJ 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


TAUT 1. 


I. 

The thunder groaned, tliie wind howled, the rain fell in 
hissing torrents, impenetrable darkness covered the earth. 

A blue and forky flash darted a momentary light over the 
landscape. A Doric temple rose in the centre of a small 
and verdant plain, siirroimded on all sides by green and 
hanging woods. 

‘Jove is my only friend,’ exclaimed a wanderer, as he 
muffled himself up in his mantle ; ‘ and were it not for tlio 
porch of his temple, this night, methinks, would complete 
the work of my loving wife and my dutiful subjects.’ 

The thunder died away, the wind sank into silence, the 
rain ceased, and the parting clouds exhibited the glittering 
crescent of the young moon. A sonorous and majestic voice 
sounded from the skies :— 

‘ Who art thou that hast no other friend than Jove ^ ’ 

‘ One whom all mankind unite in calling a wretch.’ 

‘ Art thou a philosopher ? ’ 

‘ If philosophy be endurance. But for the rest, I was 
sometime a king, and am now a scatterling.’ 

‘ How do they call thee ? ’ 

‘ Ixion of Thessaly.’ 

‘ Ixion of Thessaly ! I thought he was a happy man. I 
heard that he was just married.’ 

‘ Father of Gods and men ! for I deem thee such, Thessaly 



270 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


IS not Olympus. Conjugal felicity is only the portion of the 
Immortals ! ’ 

‘ Hem ! What! was Dia jealous, which is common ; or 
false, which is commoner ; or both, which is commonest ? ’ 

‘ It may be neither. We quarrelled about nothing. Where 
there is little sympathy, or too much, the splitting of a 
straw is plot enough for a domestic tragedy. I was care¬ 
less, her friends stigmatised me as callous ; she cold, her 
friends styled her magnanimous. Public opinion was all 
on her side, merely because I did not choose that the world 
should interfere between mo and my wife. Dia took the 
world’s advice upon every point, and the world decided that 
she always acted rightly. However, life is life, either in a 
palace or a cave. T am glad you ordered it to leave off 
thundering.’ 

‘ A cool dog this. And Dia left thee ? ’ 

‘ No ; I left her.’ 

‘ What, craven ? ’ 

‘ Not exactly. The truth is-’tis a long story. I was 

over head and ears in debt.’ 

‘ Ah! that accounts for everything. Nothing so harassing 
as a want of money ! But what lucl?y fellows you Mortals 
are with your post-obits ! We Immortals are deprived of 
this resource. I was obliged to get up a rebellion against 
my father, because he kept me so short, and could not die.’ 

‘ You could have married for money. I did.’ 

‘ I had no opportunity, there was so little female society 
in those days. When I came out, there were no heiresses 
except the Parcos, confirmed old maids; and no very rich 
dowager, except my grandmother, old Terra.’ 

‘ Just the thing; the older the better. However, I mariicd 
Dia, the daughter of Deioneus, with a prodigious portion; 
but after the ceremony the old gentleman would not fulfil 
his part of the contract without my giving up my stud. Can 
you conceive anything more unreasonable ? I smothered 
my resentment at the time ; for the truth is, my tradesmen 
all renewed my credit on the strength of the match, and so 
we went on very well for a year ; but at last they began to 



IXION IN HEAVEN. 


271 


smell a rat, and grew importunate. I entreated Dia to in¬ 
terfere ; but sbe was a paragon of daughters, and always 
took the side of her father. If she had only been dutiful 
to her husband, she would have been a perfect woman. 
At last I invited Deioneus to the Larissa races, with the 
intention of conciliating him. The unprincipled old man 
bought the horse that I had backed, and by which I intended 
to have redeemed my fortunes, and withdrew it. My book 
was ruined. I dissembled my rage. I dug a pit in our 
garden, and filled it with burning coals. As my father-in- 
law and myself were taking a stroll after dinner, the worthy 
Deioneus fell in, merely by accident. Dia proclaimed me 
the murderer of her father, and, as a satisfaction to her 
wounded feelings, earnestly requested her subjects to de¬ 
capitate her husband. She certainly was the best of 
daughters. There was no withstanding public opinion, an 
infuriated rabble, and a magnanimous wife at the same time. 
They surrounded my palace; I cut my way through the 
greasy-capped multitude, sword in hand, and gained a 
neighbouring Court, where I solicited my brother princes 
to purify me from the supposed murder. If I had only 
murdered a subject, they would have supported me against 
the people; but Deioneus being a crowned head, like them¬ 
selves, they declared they would not countenance so im¬ 
moral a being as his son-in-law. And so, at length, after 
much wandering, and shunned by all my species, I am here, 
Jove, in much higher society than I ever expected to 
mingle.’ 

‘Well, thou art a frank dog, and in a sufficiently severe 
scrape. The Gods must have pity on those for whom men 
have none. It is evident that Earth is too hot for thee at 
present, so I think thou hadst better come and. stay a few 
■sveeks with us in Heaven.’ 

‘ Take my thanks for hecatombs, great Jove. Thou art, 
indeed, a God ! ’ 

‘ I hardly know whether our life will suit you. We dine 
at sunset; for Apollo is so much engaged that he cannot 
join us sooner, and no dinner goes off well without him. In 


272 


TXION TX HEAVEX. 


the morning jmu are your own master, and must find amuse¬ 
ment where you can. Diana will show 3^011 some tolerable 
sport. Do 3^011 shoot ? ’ 

‘ ISTo arrow surer. Fear not for me, ^giochus: I am 
alwa 3 ^s at home. But how am I to get to you ? ’ 

‘ I will send Mercury ; he is the best travelling companion 
in the world. What ho ! my Eagle ! ’ 

The clouds joined, and darkness again fell over the earth. 

II. 

‘ So ! tread softl 3 ^ Don’t be nervous. Are you sick ? ’ 

‘ A little nausea ; ’tis nothing.’ 

‘ The novelty of the motion. The best thing is a beef¬ 
steak. We will stop at Taurus and take one.’ 

‘ You have been a great traveller, Mercur 3 ’ ? ’ 

‘ I have seen the world.’ 

‘ Ah ! a wondrous spectacle. I long to travel.’ 

‘ The same thing over and over again. Little novelt 3 ^ and 
much change. I am wearied with exertion, and if I could 
get a pension would retire.’ 

‘ And yet travel brings wisdom.’ 

‘ It cures us of care. Seeing much we feel little, and learn 
how very petty are all those great affairs which cost us such 
anxiet 3 ^.’ 

‘ I feel that already myself. Floating in this blue jether, 
what the devil is my wife to me, and her dirty earth ! My 
persecuting enemies seem so many^pismires; and as for my 
debts, which have occasioned me so many brooding mo¬ 
ments, honour and infamy, credit and beggary, seem to me 
alike ridiculous.’ 

‘ Your mind is opening, Ixion. You will soon be a man 
of the world. To the left, and keep clear of that star.’ 

‘ Who lives there ? ’ 

‘ The Fates know, not I. Some low people who are 
trying to shine into notice. ’Tis a parvenu planet, and 
only sprung into space within this centuiw. We do not 
visit them.’ 

‘ Poor devils ! I feel hungiy.’ 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


273 


‘ All riglit. We sliall get into Heaven by the first dinner 
bolt. Yon cannot arrive at a strange house at a better 
moment. We shall just have time to dress. I would not 
spoil my appetite by luncheon. Jupiter keeps a capital 
cook.’ 

‘ I have heard of Hectar and Ambrosia.’ 

‘ Poll! nobody touches them. They are regular old- 
fashioned celestial food, and merely put upon the side-table. 
Nothing goes down in Heaven now but infernal cookery. 
We took our cZie/from Proserpine.’ 

‘ Were you ever in Hell ? ’ 

‘ Several times. ’Tis the fasliion now among the Ol^nn- 
pians to pass the winter there.’ 

‘ Is this the season in Heaven ? ’ 

‘ Yes ; you are lucky. Olympus is quite full.’ 

‘ It was kind of Jupiter to invite me.’ 

‘ Ay ! he has his good points. And, no doubt, he has 
taken a liking to you, which is all very well. But be upon 
your guard. He has no heart, and is as capricious as he is 
tyrannical.’ 

‘ Gods cannot be more unkind to me than men have 
been.’ 

‘ All those who have sufiered think they have "seen the 
worst. A great mistake. However, yon are now in the 
high road to preferment, so we will not be dull. There 
are some good fellows enough amongst ns. You will like 
old Neptune.’ 

‘ Is he there now ? ’ 

‘ Yes, he generally passes his summer with us. There is 
little stirring in the ocean at that season.’ 

‘I am anxious to see Mars.’ 

‘ Oh ! a brute, more a bully than a hero. Not at all in 
the best set. These mustachioed gentry arc by no means 
the rage at present in OlymjDus. The women am all literary 
now, and Minerva has quite eclipsed Venus. Apollo is our 
hero. You must read his last work.’ 

‘ I hate reading.’ 

‘ So do I. I have no time, and seldom do anything in 

T 


274 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


that way but glance at a newspaper. Study and action 
will not combine.’ 

‘ I suppose I shall find the Goddesses very proud ? ’ 

‘ You will find them as you find women below, of dif¬ 
ferent dispositions with the same object. Yenus is a flirt; 
Minerva a prude, who fancies she has a correct taste and a 
strong mind ; and Juno a politician. As for the rest, faint 
heart never won fair lady, take a friendly hint, and do not 
be alarmed.’ 

‘I fear nothing. My mind mounts with my fortunes. 
We are above the clouds. They form beneath us a vast 
and snowy region, dim and irregular, as I have sometimes 
seen them clustering upon the horizon’s ridge at sunset, like 
a raging sea stilled by some sudden supernatural frost and 
frozen into form 1 How bright the air above us, and how 
dehcate its fragrant breath! I scarcely breathe, and yet 
my pulses beat like my first youth. I hardly feel my being. 
A splendour falls upon your presence. You seem, indeed, 
a God ! Am I so glorious ? This, this is Heaven ! ’ 

III. 

The travellers landed on a vast flight of sparkling steps of 
lapis-lazuli. Ascending, they entered beautiful gardens ; 
winding walks that yielded to the feet, and accelerated your 
passage by their rebounding pressure; fragrant shrubs 
covered with dazzhng flowers, the fleeting tints of which 
changed every moment; groups of tall trees, with strange 
birds of brilliant and variegated plumage, singing and 
reposing in their sheeny foliage, and fountains of perfumes. 

Before them rose an illimitable and golden palace, -with 
high spreading domes of pearl, and long windows of crystal. 
Around the huge portal of ruby was ranged a company of 
winged genii, who smiled on Mercury as he passed them 
mth his charge. 

‘ The father of Gods and men is dressing,’ said the son of 
Maia. ‘ I shall attend his toilet and inform him of your 
arrival. These are your rooms. Dinner will be ready in 
half an hour. I wiU call for you as I go down.. You can 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


275 


bo formally presented in the evening. At that time, 
inspired by liqueurs and his matchless band of wind instru¬ 
ments, you will agree with the world that -dijgiochus is the 
most finished God in existence.’ 


iv. 

‘ Now, Ixion, are you ready ? ’ 

‘ Even so. What says Jove ? ’ 

‘ He smiled, but said nothing. He was trying on a new 
robe. By this time he is seated. Hark! the thunder. 
Come on! ’ 

They entered a cupolaed hall. Seats of ivory and gold 
were ranged round a circular table of cedar, inlaid with the 
campaigns against the Titans, in silver exquisitely worked, 
a nuptial present of Vulcan. The service of gold plate 
threw all the ideas of the Ehng of Thessaly as to royal 
magnificence into the darkest shade. The enormous plateau 
represented the constellations. Ixion viewed the father of 
Gods and men with great interest, who, however, did not 
notice him. He acknowledged the majesty of that counte¬ 
nance whose nod shook Olympus. Majestically robust 
and luxuriantly lusty, his tapering waist was evidently 
immortal, for it defied Time, and his splendid auburn curls, 
parted on his forehead with celestial precision, descended 
over cheeks glowing with the purple radiancy of perpetual 
manhood. 

The haughty Juno was seated on his left hand and Ceres 
on his right. For the rest of the company there was Nep¬ 
tune, Latona, Minerva, and Apollo, and when Mercury and 
Ixion had taken their places, one seat was still vacant. 

‘ Where is Diana ? ’ inquired Jupiter, with a frown. 

‘ My sister is hunting,’ said Apollo. 

‘ She is always too late for dinner,’ said Jupiter. * No 
habit is less Goddess-like.’ 

‘ Godlike pursuits cannot be expected to induce Goddess¬ 
like manners,’ said Juno, with a sneer. 

‘ I have no doubt Diana will be here directly,’ said 
Latona, mildly. 


1^76 


IXION lx HEAVJ^X. 


Jupiter seemed pacified, and at that instant the absent 
guest returned. 

‘ Grood sport, Di ? ’ inquired Neptune. 

‘ Very fair, uncle. Mamma,’ continued the sister of 
Apollo, addressing herself to Juno, whom she ever thus 
styled when she wished to conciliate lier, ‘ I have brought 
you a new peacock.’ 

Juno was fond of pets, and was conciliated by the pre¬ 
sent. 

* Bacchus made a great noise about this wiiie. Mercury,’ 
said Jupiter, ‘ but I think with little cause. What think 
you?’ 

‘ It pleases me, but I am fatigued, and then all wine is 
agreeable.” 

‘ You have had a long journey,’ replied the Thunderer. 

‘ Ixion, I am glad to see you in Heaven.’ 

‘ Your Majesty arrived to-day ? ’ inquired Minerva, to 
whom the King of Thessaly sat next. 

‘ Within this hour.’ 

‘ You must leave off talking of Time now,’ said Minerva, 
with a severe smile. ‘ Pray is there anything new in 
Greece ? ’ 

‘ I have not been at all in society lately.’ 

‘ No neAV edition of Homer ? I admire him exceedingly.’ 

‘ All about Greece interests me,’ said Apollo, who, 
although handsome, was a somewhat melancholy lack-a- 
daisical looking personage, with his shirt collar thrown 
open, and his long curls theatrically arranged. ‘ All about 
Greece interests me. I always consider Greece my peculiar 
property. My best poems were written at Delphi. I tra¬ 
velled in Greece when I was young. I envy mankind.’ 

‘ Indeed ! ’ said Ixion. 

‘ Yes : they at least can look forward to a termination of 
the ennui of existence, but for us Celestials there is no 
prospeet. Say what they like. Immortality is a bore.’ 

‘ You eat nothing, Apollo,’ said Ceres. 

‘ Nor drink,’ said Neptune. 

‘ To cat, to di’ink, what is it but to live; and what is lifo 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


277 


but deal]], if death be that which all men deem it, a thing 
insufferable, and to be shunned. I refresh myself now only 
with soda-water and biscuits. Ganymede, bring some.’ 

Now, although the cuisine of Olympus was considered 
jicrfect, the forlorn poet had unfortunately fixed upon the 
only two articles which were not comprised in its cellar or 
larder. In Heaven, there was neither soda-water nor 
biscuits. A great confusion consequently ensued; but at 
length the bard, whose love of fame was only equalled by 
his horror of getting fat, consoled himself with a swan 
stuffed with truffles, and a bottle of strong Tenedos wine. 

‘ What do you think of Homer ? ’ inquired Minerva of 
AjDollo. ‘ Is he not delightful ? ’ 

‘ If you think so.’ 

‘ Nay, I am desirous of your opinion.’ 

‘ Then you should not have given me yours, for your tasto 
is too fine for me to dare to differ with it.’ 

‘ I have suspected, for some time, tliat you are rather a 
heretic.’ 

‘ Why, the truth is,’ replied Apollo, pla 3 dng with his 
rings, ‘ I do not think much of Homer. Homer was not 
esteemed in his own age, and our contemjDoraries are gene¬ 
rally our best judges. The fact is, there are very few 
people who are qualified to decide upon matters of taste. 
A certain set, for certain reasons, resolve to cry up a cer¬ 
tain wu'iter, and the great mass soon join in. All is cant. 
And the present admiration of Homer is not less so. They 
say I have borrowed a great deal from him. The truth is, 
I never read Homer since I was a child, and I thought of 
him then what I think of him now, a writer of some wild 
irregular power, totally deficient in taste. Depend upon it, 
our contemporaries are our best judges, and his contempo¬ 
raries decided that Homer was nothing. A great poet can¬ 
not be kept down. Look at my case. Marsyas said of my 
first volume that it was pretty good poetry for a God, and 
in answer I wrote a satire, and flayed Marsyas alive. But 
what is poetry, and what is criticism, and what is life ? 
Air. And what is Air ? Do you know ? I don’t. All is 


278 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


mystery, and all is gloom, and ever and anon from ont the 
clouds a star breaks forth, and glitters, and that star is 
Poetry.’ 

‘ Splendid ! ’ exclaimed Minerva. 

‘ I do not exactly understand you,’ said Neptune. 

‘Have you heard from Proserpine, lately?’ inquired 
Jupiter of Ceres. 

‘ Yesterday,’ said the domestic mother. ‘ They talk of 
soon joining us. But Pluto is at present so busy, owing to 
the amazing quantity of wars going on now, that I am 
almost afraid he will scarcely be able to accompany her.’ 

Juno exchanged a telegraphic nod with Ceres. The 
Goddesses rose, and retired. 

‘ Come, old boy,’ said Jupiter to Ixion, instantly throwing 
off all his chivalric majesty, ‘ I drink your welcome in a 
magnum of Maraschino. Damn your poetry, Apollo, and 
Mercury give us one of your good stories.’ 


V. 

‘ Well! what do you think of him ? ’ asked Juno. 

‘ He appears to have a fine mind,’ said Minerva. 

‘Poh ! he has very fine eyes,’ said Juno. 

‘He seems a very nice, quiet young gentleman,’ said 
Ceres. 

‘ I have no doubt he is very amiable,’ said Latona. 

‘He must have felt very strange,’ said Diana. 


VI. 

Hercules arrived with Ms bride Hebe; soon after the 
Graces dropped in, the most delightful personages in the 
world for a soiree, so useful and ready for anything. After¬ 
wards came a few of the Muses, Thalia, Melpomene, and 
Terpsichore, famous for a charade or a proverb. Jupiter 
liked to be amused in the evening. Bacchus also came, 
but finding that the Gods had not yet left their wine, re¬ 
tired to pay them a previous visit. 


mON IN HEAVEN. 


279 


VII. 

Ganymede announced coffee in tlie saloon of Juno. 
Jupiter was in superb good bumour. He was amused by 
his mortal guest. He bad condescended to tell one of bis 
best stories in bis best style, about Leda, not too scandalous, 
but gay. 

‘ Those were bright days,’ said Neptune. 

‘We can remember,’ said the Thunderer, with a twink¬ 
ling eye. ‘These youths have fallen upon duller times. 
There are no fine women now. Ixion, I drink to the health 
of your wife.’ 

‘ With all my heart, and may we never be nearer than 
we are at present.’ 

‘ Grood ! i’faith; Apollo, your arm. Now for the ladies. 
La, la, la, la ! la, la, la, la ! ’ 


VIII. 

The Thunderer entered the saloon of Juno with that bow 
which no God could rival; all rose, and the King of 
Heaven seated himself between Ceres and Latona. The 
melancholy Apollo stood apart, and was soon carried off by 
Minerva to an assembly at the house of Mnemosyne. Mer¬ 
cury chatted with the Graces, and Bacchus with Diana. 
The three Muses favoured the company with singing, and 
the Queen of Heaven approached Ixion. 

‘ Does your Majesty dance ?’ she haughtily inquired. 

‘ On earth ; I have few accomphshments even there, and 
none in Heaven.’ 

‘ You have led a strange life ! I have heard of your ad¬ 
ventures.’ 

‘ A king who has lost his crown may generally gain at 
least experience.’ 

‘ Your courage is firm.’ 

‘ I have felt too much to care for much. Yesterday I 
was a vagabond exposed to every pitiless storm, and now 
I am the guest of Jove. While there is life there is hope, 
and he who laughs at Destiny will gain Fortune. I would 
go through the past again to enjoy the present, and feel 


280 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


iliat, after all, I am my wife’s debtor, since, through her 
conduct, I can gaze upon you.’ 

‘ No great spectacle. If that be all, I wish you better 
fortune.’ 

‘ I desire no greater.’ 

‘ You are moderate.’ 

‘ I am perhaps more unreasonable than you imagine.’ 

‘ Indeed! ’ 

Their eyes met; the dark orbs of the Thessalian did not 
quail before the flashing vision of the Groddess. Jnno grew 
pale. Juno turned away. 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


281 


PAET IT. 


‘ Others say it was only a cloud.’ 


I. 

AIercuey ana Ganymede were each lolling on .an opposite 
conch in the antechamber of Olympus. 

‘ It is wonderful,’ said the son of Maia, yawning. 

‘ It is incredible,’ rejoined the cup-bearer of Jove, 
stretching his legs. 

‘A miserable mortal! ’ exclaimed the God, elevating his 
eyebrows. 

‘A vile Thessalian I ’ said the beautiful Phrygian, shrug¬ 
ging his shoulders. 

‘ Not three days back an outcast among his own wretched 
species 1 ’ 

‘ And now commanding everybody in Heaven.’ 

‘ He shall not command me, though,’ said Mercury. 

‘ Will he not ? ’ replied Ganymede. ‘ Why, what do you 
think ? only last night; hark 1 here he comes.’ 

The companions jumped up from their couches ; a light 
laugh was heard. The cedar portal was flung open, and 
Ixion lounged in, habited in a loose morning robe, and 
kicking before him one of his slippers. 

‘ Ah 1 ’ exclaimed the King of Thessaly, ‘ the very fellows 
I wanted to see 1 Ganymede, bring me some nectar ; and. 
Mercury, run and tell Jove that I shall not dine at homo 
to-day.’ 

The messenger and the page exchanged looks of indig¬ 
nant consternation, 

‘Well! what are you waiting for?’ continued Ixion, 
looking round from the mirror in which he was arranging 
his locks. The messenger and the page disappeared. 




282 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


‘ So! this is Heaven,’ exclaimed the husband of Dia, 
flinging himself upon one of the couches; ‘ and a very 
pleasant place too. These worthy Immortals required their 
minds to be opened, and I trust I have effectually per¬ 
formed the necessary operation. They wanted to keep me 
down with their dull old-fashioned celestial airs, but I 
fancy I have given them change for them talent. To make 
your way in Heaven you must command. These exclusives 
sink under the audacious invention of an aspiring mind. 
Jove himself is really a fine old fellow, with some notions 
too. I am a prime favourite, and no one is greater autho¬ 
rity with ^giochus on all subjects, from the character of 
the fair sex or the pedigree of a courser, down to the cut of 
a robe or the flavour of a dish. Thanks, Granymede,’ con¬ 
tinued the Thessalian, as he took the goblet from his 
returning attendant. 

‘ I drink to your bonnes fortunes. Splendid! This nectar 
makes me feel quite immortal. By-the-bye, I hear sweet 
sounds. Who is in the Hall of Music ? ’ 

‘ The Goddesses, royal sir, practise a new air of Euterpe, 
the words by Apollo. ’Tis pretty, and will doubtless be 
very popular, for it is all about moonlight and the misery 
of existence.’ 

‘ I warrant it.’ 

‘You have a taste for poetry yourself?’ inquired 
Ganymede. 

‘ Hot the least,’ replied Ixion. 

‘ Apollo,’ continued the heavenly page, ‘ is a great 
genius, though Marsyas said that he never would be a poet 
because he was a god, and had no heart. But do you 
think, sir, that a poet does indeed need a heart ? ’ 

‘ I really cannot say. I know my wife always said I had 
a bad heart and worse head; but what she meant, upon my 
honour I never could understand.’ 

‘Minerva will ask you to write in her album.’ 

‘ Will she indeed! I am sorry to hear it, for I can 
scarcely scrawl my signature. I should think that Jove 
himself cared little for all this nonsense.’ 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


283 


‘ Jove loves an epigram. He does not esteem Apollo’s 
works at all. Jove is of tlie classical school, and admires 
satire, provided there be no allusions to gods and kings.’ 

‘ Of course ; I quite agree with him. I remember we 
had a confounded poet at Larissa who proved my family 
lived before the deluge, and asked me for a pension. I 
refused him, and then he wrote an epigram asserting that I 
sprang from the veritable stones thrown by Deucalion and 
Pyrrha at the re-peopling of the earth, and retained all the 
properties of my ancestors.’ 

‘ Ha, ha ! Hark ! there’s a thunderbolt! I must run to 
Jove.’ 

‘ And I will look in on the musicians. This way, I think ?’ 

‘ Hp the ruby staircase, turn to your right, down the 
amethyst gallery. Farewell! ’ 

‘ Good bye; a lively lad that! ’ 


II. 

The King of Thessaly entered the Hall of Music with its 
golden walls and crystal dome. The Queen of Heaven was 
reclining in an easy chair, cutting out peacocks in small 
sheets of note paper. Minerva was making a pencil obser¬ 
vation on a manuscript copy of the song: Apollo listened 
with deference to her laudatory criticisms. Another divine 
dame, standing by the side of Euterpe, who was seated by 
the harp, looked up as Ixion entered. The wild liquid 
glance of her soft but radiant countenance denoted the 
famed Goddess of Beauty. 

Juno just acknowledged the entrance of Ixion by a slight 
and haughty inclination of the head, and then resumed her 
employment. IVIinerva asked him his opinion of her amend¬ 
ment, of which he greatly approved. Apollo greeted him 
with a melancholy smile, and congratulated him on being 
mortal. Venus complimented him on his visit to Olympus, 
and expressed the pleasure that she experienced in making 
]iis acquaintance. 

‘ What do you think of Heaven ?’ inquired Venus, in a 
soft still voice, and Avith a smile like summer lightning. 


£84 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


‘ I never found it so enchanting as at this moment,’ re¬ 
plied Ixion. 

‘ A little dull ? For myself, I pass my time chiefly at 
Cnidos : you must come and visit me there. ’Tis the most 
charming place in the world. ’Tis said, you know, that our 
onions are like other people’s roses. We will take care of 
you, if your wife come.’ 

‘hTo fear of that. She always remains at home and 
piques herself on her domestic virtues, wliich means pick¬ 
ling, and quarrelling with her husband.’ 

‘Ah! I see you are a droll. Very good indeed. Well, 
for my part, I like a watering-place existence. Cnidos, 
Paphos, Cythera; you will usually find me at one of these 
places. I like the easy distraction of a career without any 
visible result. At these fascinating spots your gloomy race, 
to whom, by-the-bye, I am exceedingly partial, appear 
emancipated from the wearing fetters of their regular, dull, 
orderly, methodical, moral, political, toiling existence. I 
pride myself upon being the Goddess of Watering-places. 
You really must pay me a visit at Cnidos.’ 

‘ Such an invitation requires no repetition. And Cnidos 
is your favourite spot ?’ 

‘ "Why, it was so ; but of late it has become so inundated 
with invalid Asiatics and valetudinarian Persians, that the 
simultaneous influx of the handsome heroes who swarm in 
from the islands to look after their daughters, scarcely com¬ 
pensates for the annoying presence of their yellow faces and 
shaking limbs. No, I think, on the whole, Paphos is my 
favourite.’ 

‘ I have heard of its magnificent luxury.’ 

‘ Oh 1 ’tis lovely ! Quite my idea of country life. Not a 
single tree 1 When Cyprus is very hot, you run to Paphos 
for a sea-breeze, and are sure to meet every one whose pre¬ 
sence is in the least desirable. All the bores remain behind, 
as if by instinct.’ 

‘ I remember when we married, we talked of passing the 
honeymoon at Cythera, but Dia would have her waiting- 
maid and a bandbox stuffed between us in the chariot, so I 
got sulky after the first stage, and returned by myself.’ 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


285 


* You were quite riglit. I hate bandboxes: tliey are 
always in the Avay. You Avould have liked Cythera if you 
had been in the least in love. High rocks and green knolls, 
boAvery Avoods, AAunding Avalks, and delicious sunsets. I 
have not been there much of late,’ continued the Goddess, 
looking somewhat sad and serious, ‘ since: but I will not 
talk sentiment to Ixion.’ 

‘ Do you think, then, I am insensible ?’ 

‘ Yes.’ 

‘ Perhaps you are right. We mortals groAV callous.’ 

‘ So I have heard. Hoav very odd ! ’ So saying, the 
Goddess glided aAvay and saluted Mars, who at that mo¬ 
ment entered the hall. Ixion Avas presented to the military 
hero, Avho looked fierce and boAved stiffly. The King of 
Thessaly turned upon his heel. Minerva opened her album, 
and invited him to inscribe a stanza. 

‘ Goddess of Wisdom,’ replied the King, ‘unless you in¬ 
spire me, the virgin page must remain pure as thyself. I 
can scarcely sign a decree.’ 

‘Is it Ixion of Thessaly Avho says this ; one who has seen 
so much, and, if I am not mistaken, has felt and thought so 
much ? I can easily conceive Avhy such a mind may desire 
to veil its movements from the common herd, but pray con¬ 
cede to Minerva the gratifying compliment of assuring her 
that she is the exception for Avhom this rule has been esta¬ 
blished.’ 

‘ I seem to listen to the ins23ired music of an oracle. Give 
me a pen.’ 

‘ Here is one, plucked from a sacred OAAd.* 

‘ So ! I Avrite. There ! Will it do ?’ 

MinerA^a read the inscription :— 

I HAVE SEEN THE AVOKLD, AND MORE THAN THE AVORLD : I 
HAVE STUDIED THE HEART OP MAN, AND NOAV I CONSORT 

AviTH Immortals. The fruit op my tree op knoavledge 
IS plucked, and it is this, * '^hijcutuvr^ nrr to tlje 
Sltfiicnturous.’ 

]Vriiien in ihe Allmi of Minerva, lij 

iVtou m 


286 


JXION IN HEAVEN. 


‘ ’Tis brief,’ said tbe Goddess, with a musing air, ‘ but 
full of meaning. You have a daring soul and pregnant 
mind.’ 

* I have dared much: what I may produce we have yet to 
see.’ 

‘ I must to Jove,’ said Minerva, ‘ to council. We shall 
meet again. Farewell, Ixion.’ 

‘Farewell, Glaucopis.’ 

The King of Thessaly stood away from the remaining 
guests, and leant with folded arms and pensive brow against 
a wreathed column. Mars listened to Venus with an air of 
deep devotion. Euterpe played an inspiring accompaniment 
to their conversation. The Queen of Heaven seemed en¬ 
grossed in the creation of her paper peacocks. 

Ixion advanced and seated himself on a couch near Juno. 
His manner was divested of that reckless bearing and care¬ 
less coolness by which it was in general distinguished. He 
was, perhaps, even a httle embarrassed. His ready tongue 
deserted him. At length he spoke. 

‘ Has your Majesty ever heard of the peacock of the Queen 
of Mesopotamia ?’ 

‘ Ko,’ replied Juno, with stately reserve; and then she 
ftdded with an air of indilFerent curiosity, ‘ Is it in any way 
remarkable ?’ 

‘ Its breast is of silver, its wings of gold, its eyes of car¬ 
buncle, its claws of amethyst.’ 

‘ And its tail ?’ eagerly inquired Juno. 

‘ That is a secret,’ replied Ixion. ‘ The tail is the most 
wonderful part of all.’ 

‘ Oh ! tell me, pray tell me ! ’ 

‘ I forget.’ 

‘ No, no, no; it is impossible ! ’ exclaimed the animated ’ 
Juno. ‘ Provoking mortal! ’ continued the Goddess. ‘ Let 
me entreat you; tell me immediately.’ 

‘ There is. a reason wliich prevents me.’ 

‘ What can it be ? How very odd ! What reason can it 
possibly be ? Now tell me; as a particular, a personal 
favour, I request you, do tell me.’ 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


287 


* What! The tail or the reason ? The tail is wonderful, 
hut the reason is mnch more so. I can only tell one. Now 
choose.’ 

‘ What provoking things these human beings are ! The 
tail is wonderful, but the reason is mnch more so. Well 
then, the reason; no, the tail. Stop, now, as a particular 
favour, pray tell me both. What can the tail be made of 
and what can the reason be? I am literally dying of 
curiosity.’ 

‘ Your Majesty has cut out that peacock wrong,’ remarked 
Ixion. ‘ It is more like one of Minerva’s owls.’ 

‘Who cares about paper peacocks, when the Queen of 
Mesopotamia has got such a miracle ! ’ exclaimed Juno ; and 
she tore the labours of the morning to pieces, and threw 
away the fragments with vexation. ‘ Now tell me instantly ; 
if you have the slightest regard for me, tell me instantly. 
What was the tail made of? ’ 

‘ And you do not wish to hear the reason ?’ 

‘ That afterwards. Now! I am all ears.’ At this mo¬ 
ment Ganymede entered, and whispered the Goddess, who 
rose in evident vexation, and retired to the presence of 
Jove. 

III. 

The King of Thessaly quitted the Hall of Music. Moody, 
yet not uninfluenced by a degree of wild excitement, he 
wandered forth into the gardens of Olympus. He came to 
a beautiful green retreat surrounded by enormous cedars, so 
vast that it seemed they must have been coeval with the 
creation; so fresh and brilliant, you would have deemed 
them wet Tvith the dew of their first spring. The turf, 
softer than down, and exhaling, as you pressed it, an ex¬ 
quisite perfume, invited him to recline himself upon this 
natural couch. He threw himself upon the aromatic herb¬ 
age, and leaning on his arm, fell into a deep reverie. 

Hours flew away; the sunshiny glades that opened in the 
distance had softened into shade. 

‘ Ixion, how do you do ? ’ inquired a voice, wild, sweet, 
and thrilling as a bird. The King of Thessaly started and 


288 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


looked up with the distracted air of a man roused from a 
dream, or from complacent meditation over some strange, 
SAveet secret. His cheek was flushed, his dark eyes flashed 
fire ; his broAV trembled, his dishevelled hair played in tho 
fitful breeze. The King of Thessaly looked up, and beheld 
a most beautiful youth. 

Apparently, he had attained about the age of puberty. 
His stature, however, was rather tall for his age, but 
exquisitely moulded and proportioned. Very fair, his 
somewhat round cheeks were tinted Avith a rich but delicate 
gloAV, like the rose of tAvilight, and lighted by dimj^les that 
Winkled like stars. His large and deep-blue eyes sparkled 
Avith exultation, and an air of ill-suppressed mockery 
quivered round his pouting lips. His light auburn hair, 
braided off his Avhite forehead, clustered in massy curls on 
each side of his face, and fell in sunny torrents doAvn his 
neck. And from the back of the beautiful youth there flut¬ 
tered forth two Aviiigs, the tremulous plumage of Avhich 
seemed to have been bathed in a sunset: so various, so 
radiant, and so novel Avere its shifting and Avondrous tints ; 
purple, and crimson, and gold; streaks of azure, dashes of 
orange and glossy black; noAV a single featlier, Avhiter than 
light, and sparkling like the frost, stars of emerald and car¬ 
buncle, and then the prismatic blaze of an enormous bril¬ 
liant ! A quiver hung at the side of the beautiful youth, 
and he leant upon a bow. 

‘ Oh 1 god, for god thou must be! ’ at length exclaimed 
Ixion. ‘ Do I behold the bright divinity of Love ? ’ 

‘ I am indeed Cupid,’ replied the youth; ‘ and am curious 
to know AA^hat Ixion is thinking about.’ 

‘ Thought is often bolder than speech.’ 

* Oracular, though a mortal! You need not be afraid to 
trust me. My aid I am sure you must need. Who CA^er 
Avas found in a reverie on the green turf, under the shade of 
spreading trees, Avithout requiring the assistance of Cupid ? 
Come! be frank, Avho is the heroine ? Some love-sick 
nymph deserted on the far earth; or Avorse, sonic treache¬ 
rous mistress, Avhose frailty is more easily forgotten than 


IXION IX HEAVEN. 


289 


her charms ? ’Tis a miserable situation, no doubt. It can¬ 
not be your wife ? ’ 

‘ Assuredly not,’ replied Ixion, with energy. 

‘ Another man’s ? ’ 

‘X'o.’ 

‘ What! an obdurate maiden?’ 

Ixion shook his head. 

‘ It must be a widow, then,’ continued Capid. ‘ Who 
ever heard before of such a piece of work about a widow ! ’ 

‘ Have pity upon me, dread Cupid ! ’ exclaimed the King 
of Thessaly, rising suddenly from the ground, and falling 
on his knee before the God. ‘Thou art the universal 
friend of man, and all nations alike throw their incense on 
thy altars. Thy divine discrimination has not deceived 
thee. I am in love ; desperately, madly, fatally enamoured. 
The object of my passion is neither my own wife nor 
another man’s. In spite of all they have said and sworn, I 
am a moral member of society. She is neither a maid nor a 
widow. She is-’ 

‘ What ? what ? ’ exclaimed the impatient deity. 

‘A Goddess ! ’ replied the King. 

‘Wheugh!’ whistled Cupid. ‘What! has my mis¬ 
chievous mother been indulging you with an innocent 
flirtation ? ’ 

‘ Yes ; but it produced no effect upon me.’ 

‘You have a stout heart, then. Perhaps you have been 
reading poetry with jMinerva, and are caught in one of her 
Platonic man-traps.’ 

‘ She set one, but I broke away.’ 

‘ You have a stout leg, then. Put where are yon, where 
are you ? Is it Hebe ? It can hardly be Diana, she is so 
cold. Is it a Muse, or is it one of the Graces ? ’ 

Ixion again shook his head. 

‘ Come, my dear fellow,’ said Cupid, quite in a coiiflden- 
tial tone, ‘ you have told enough to make further reserve 
mere affectation. Ease your heart at once, and if I can 
assist you, depend upon my exertions.’ 

‘Peneficent God !’ exclaimed Ixion, ‘ if I ever return to 

u 


290 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


Larissa, tlie brigMest temple in Greece shall bail tbee for 
its inspiring deity. I address tbee witb all tbe confiding 
frankness of a devoted votary. Know, tben, tbe heroine of 
my reverie was no less a personage than tbe Queen of 
Heaven herself! ’ 

‘ Juno ! by all that is sacred ! ’ shouted Cupid. 

‘ I am here,’ responded a voice of majestic melody. Tbe 
stately form of the Queen of Heaven advanced from a neigh¬ 
bouring bower. Ixion stood with his eyes fixed upon the 
ground, with a throbbing heart and burning cheeks. Juno 
stood motionless, pale, and astounded. The God of Love 
burst into excessive laughter. 

‘A pretty pair,’ he exclaimed, fluttering between both, 
and laughing in their faces. ‘ Truly a pretty pair. Well! 
I see I am in your way. Good bye ! ’ And so saying, the 
God pulled a couple of arrows from his quiver, and with the 
rapidity of lightning shot one in the respective breasts of 
the Queen of Heaven and the King of Thessaly. 

IV. 

The amethystine twilight of Olympus died away. The 
stars blazed with tints of every hue. Ixion and Juno re¬ 
turned to the palace. She leant upon his arm ; her eyes 
were flxed upon the ground; they were in sight of the 
gorgeous pile, and yet she had not spoken. Ixion, too, 
was silent, and gazed with abstraction upon the glowing 
sky. 

Suddenly, when within a hundred yards of the portal, 
Juno stopped, and looking up into the face of Ixion with an 
irresistible smile, she said, ‘ I am sure you cannot now 
refuse to tell me what the Queen of Mesopotamia’s peacock’s 
tail was made of! ’ 

‘ It is impossible now,’ said Ixion. ‘ Know, then, beautiful 
Goddess, that the tail of the Queen of Mesopotamia’s pea¬ 
cock was made of some plumage she had stolen from the 
wings of Cupid.’ 

‘ And what was the reason that prevented you from tell¬ 
ing me before ? ’ 


mON m HEAVEK. 291 

* Because, beautiful Juno, I am tbe most discreet of men, 
and respect tbe secret of a ladj, however trifling.’ 

‘ I am glad to hear that,’ replied Juno, and they re-entered 
the palace. 

V. 

Mercury met Juno and Ixion in the gallery leading to the 
grand banqueting hall. 

‘ I was looking for you,’ said the God, shaking his head. 
‘Jove is in a sublime rage. Dinner has been ready this 
hour.’ 

The King of Thessaly and the Queen of Heaven ex¬ 
changed a glance and entered the saloon. Jove looked up 
with a brow of thunder, but did not condescend to send 
forth a single flash of anger. Jove looked up and Jove 
looked down. All Olympus trembled as the father of Gods 
and men resumed his soup. The rest of the guests seemed 
nervous and reserved, except Cupid, who said immediately 
to Juno, ‘ Your Majesty has been detained ? ’ 

‘ I fell asleep in a bower reading Apollo’s last poem,’ re¬ 
plied Juno. ‘ I am lucky, however, in finding a companion 
in my negligence. Ixion, where have you been ? ’ 

‘Take a glass of nectar, Juno,’ said Cupid, with eyes 
twinkling with mischief; ‘ and perhaps Ixion will join us.’ 

This was the most solemn banquet ever celebrated in 
Olympus. Every one seemed out of humour or out of 
spirits. Jupiter spoke only in monosyllables of suppressed 
rage, that sounded like distant thunder. 

Apollo whispered to Minerva. Mercury never opened his 
lips, but occasionally exchanged significant glances with 
Ganymede. Mars compensated, by his attentions to Venus, 
for his want of conversation. Cupid employed himself in 
asking disagreeable questions. At length the Goddesses re¬ 
tired. Mercury exerted himself to amuse Jove, but the 
Thunderer scarcely deigned to smile at his best stories. 
Mars picked his teeth, Apollo played with his rings, Ixion 
was buried in a profound reverie. 


292 


IXTON IN HEAVEN. 


' YI. 

It was a gi’eat relief to all when Ganymede summoned 
them to the presence of their late companions. 

‘ I have written a comment upon your inscription,’ said 
Minerva to Ixion, ‘ and am anxious for your opinion of it.’ 

‘ I am a wretched critic,’ said the King, breaking away 
from her. Juno smiled upon him in the distance. 

‘ Ixion,’ said Yeiius, as he passed by, ‘ come and talk to 
me.’ 

The bold Thessalian blushed, he stammered out an un¬ 
meaning excuse, he quitted the astonished but good-natured 
Goddess, and seated himself by Juno, and as he seated him¬ 
self his moody brow seemed suddenly illumined with bril¬ 
liant light. 

‘ Is it so ? ’ said Venus. 

‘ Hem ! ’ said Minerva. 

‘ Ha, ha ! ’ said Cupid. 

Jupiter played piquette with Mercury. 

‘ Everything goes wrong to-day,’ said the King of Heaven; 

* cards wretched, and kept waiting for dinner, and by- 

a mortal! ’ 

‘ Your Majesty must not be surprised,’ said the good- 
natured Mercury, with whom Ixion was n o favourite. ‘ You r 
Majesty must not be very much surprised at the conduct of 
this creature. Considering what he is, and where he is, I 
am only astonished that his head is not more turned than 
it appears to be. A man, a thing made of mud, and in 
Heaven ! Only think, sire ! Is it not enough to inflame 
the brain of any child of clay? To be sure, keeping your 
Majesty from dinner is little short of celestial high treason. 
I hardly expected that, indeed. To order me about, to treat 
Ganymede as his own lacquey, and, in short, to command 
the whole household ; all this might be expected from sucli 
a person in such a situation, but I confess I did think he 
liad some little respect left for your Majesty.’ 

‘And he does order you about, eh?’ inquired Jove. ‘I 
have the spades.’ 



IXION Ix\ HEAVEN. 


293 

‘ Oil! ’tis quite ludicrous,’ responded the son of Maia. 
‘ Your Majesty would not expect from me the oflB.ces that 
this upstart daily requires.’ 

‘ Eternal destiny! is’t possible ? That is my trick. And 
Ganymede, too ? ’ 

‘ Oh! quite shocking, I assure you, sire,’ said the beau¬ 
tiful cupbearer, leaning over the chair of Jove with all the 
easy insolence of a privileged favourite. ‘ Really sire, if 
Ixion is to go on in the way he does, either he or I must 
quit.’ 

‘ Is it possible ? ’ exclaimed Jupiter. ‘ But I can believe 
anything of a man who keeps me waiting for dinner. Two 
and three make five.’ 

‘ It is Juno that encourages him so,’ said Ganymede. 

‘ Does she encourage him ? ’ inquired Jove. 

‘ Everybody notices it,’ protested Ganymede. 

‘ It is indeed a little noticed,’ observed Mercury. 

‘ What business has such a fellow to speak to Juno ? ’ 
exclaimed Jove. ‘ A mere mortal, a mere miserable mortal I 
You have the point. How I have been deceived in this 
fellow I Who ever could have supposed that, after all my 
generosity to him, he would ever have kept me waiting for 
dinner ? ’ 

‘ He was walking with Juno,’ said Ganymede. ‘ It was 
all a sham about their having met by accident. Cupid saw 
them.’ 

‘Hal’ said Jupiter, turning pale; ‘you don’t say so ! 
Repiqued, as I am a God. That is mine. Where is tho 
Queen ? ’ 

‘Talking to Ixion, sire,’ said Mercury. ‘ Oh, I beg 3 'our 
pardon, sire; I did not know you meant the queen of 
diamonds.’ 

‘ iSTever mind. I am repiqued, and I have been kept 
waiting for dinner. Accursed be this day I Is Ixion really 
talking to Juno ? We will not endure this.’ 


294 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


VU. 

‘ Where is Juno ? ^ demanded Jupiter. 

‘ I am sure I cannot say,’ said Venus, with a smile. 

‘ I am sure I do not know,’ said Minerva, with a sneer 

‘ Where is Ixion? ’ said Cupid, laughing outright. 

‘ Mercury, Ganymede, find the Queen of Heaven in¬ 
stantly,’ thundered the father of Gods and men. 

The celestial messenger and the heavenly page flew away 
out of different doors. There was a terrible, an immortal 
silence. Sublime rage lowered on the brow of Jove like a 
storm upon the mountain-top. Minerva seated herself at 
the card-table and played at Patience. Venus and Cupid 
tittered in the background. Shortly returned the envoys, 
Mercury looking solemn, Ganymede malignant. 

‘ Well? ’ inquired Jove; and all Olympus trembled at the 
monosyllable. 

Mercury shook his head. 

‘ Her Majesty has been walking on the terrace with the 
King of Thessaly,’ replied Ganymede. 

‘Where is she now, sir? ’ demanded Jupiter. 

Mercury shrugged his shoulders. 

‘ Her Majesty is resting herself in the pavilion of Cupid, 
with the King of Thessaly,’ replied Ganymede. 

‘ Confusion! ’ exclaimed the father of Gods and men; 
and he rose and seized a candle from the table, scattering the 
cards in all directions. Every one present, IHinerva and 
Venus, and Mars and Apollo, and Mercury and Gunymede, 
and the Muses, and the Graces, and all the winged Genii— 
each seized a candle; rifling the chandeliers, each followed 
Jove. 

‘ This way,’ said Mercury. 

‘ This way,’ said Ganymede. 

‘ This way, this way ! ’ echoed the celestial crowd. 

‘ Mischief! ’ cried Cupid ; ‘ I must save my victims.’ 

They were all upon the terrace. The father of Gods and 
men, though both in a passion and a hurry, moved vdth 
dignity. It was, as customary in Heaven, a cleai’ and starry 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


295 


niglit; but this eve Diana was indisposed, or otherwise 
engaged, and there was no moonlight. They were in sight 
of the pavilion. 

‘ What are you? * inquired Cupid of one of the Genii, 
who accidentally extinguished his candle. 

‘I am a Cloud,’ answered the winged Genius. 

‘ A Cloud ! Just the thing. Now do me a shrewd turn, 
and Cupid is ever your debtor. Fly, fly, pretty Cloud, 
and encompass yon pavihon with your form. Away ! ask 
no questions; swift as my word.’ 

‘ I declare there is a fog,’ said Venus. 

‘ An evening mist in Heaven ! ’ said Minerva. 

‘ Where is Nox? ’ said Jove. ‘ Everything goes wrong. 
Who ever heard of a mist in Heaven ? ’ 

‘ My candle is out,’ said Apollo. 

‘ And mine, too,’ said Mars. 

‘ And mine, and mine, and mine,’ said Mercury and Gany¬ 
mede, and the Muses and the Graces. 

‘ All the candles are out! ’ said Cupid ; ‘ a regular fog. 
I cannot even see the pavilion: it must be hereabouts, 
though,’ said the God to himself. ‘ So, so ; I should be at 
home in my own pavilion, and am tolerably accustomed to 
steahng about in the dark. There is a step; and here, 
surely, is the lock. The door opens, but the Cloud enters 
before me. Juno, Juno,’ whispered the God of Love, ‘ we 
are all here. Be contented to escape, like many other 
innocent dames, with your reputation only under a cloud: 
it will soon disperse; and lo ! the heaven is clearing.’ 

‘ It must have been the heat of our flambeaux,’ said Venus; 
‘ for see, the mist is vanished ; here is the pavihon.’ 

Ganymede ran forward, and dashed open the door. Ixion 
was alone. 

‘ Seize him ! ’ said Jove. 

‘ Juno is not here,’ said Mercury, with an air of blended 
congratulation and disappointment. 

‘ Never mind,’ said Jove; ‘ seize him ! He kept me wait¬ 
ing for dinner.’ 

‘Is this your hospitahty, ^giochus?’ exclaimed Ixion, 


296 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


in a tone of bullying innocence. ‘ I shall defend my- 
self.’ 

‘ Seize him, seize him ! ’ exclaimed Jupiter. ‘ hat! do 
you all falter? Are you afraid of a mortal ? ’ 

‘ And a Thessalian ? ’ added Ganymede. 

No one advanced. 

‘ Send for Hercules,’ said Jove. 

‘ I will fetch him in an instaui,’ said Ganymede. 

‘I protest,’ said the King of Thessaly, ‘ against this vio¬ 
lation of the most sacred rights.’ 

‘ The marriage tie ? ’ said Mercury. 

‘ The dinner-hour? ’ said Jove. 

‘ It is no use talking sentiment to Ixion,’ said Venus ; ‘ all 
mortals are callous.’ 

‘ Adventures are to the adventurous,’ said Minerva. 

‘ Here is Hercules ! here is Hercules ! ’ 

‘ Seize him ! ’ said Jove ; ‘ seize that man.’ 

In vain the mortal struggled with the irresistible demi- 

OO 

god. 

‘ Shall I fetch your thunderbolt, Jove ? ’ inquired Gany¬ 
mede. 

‘ Anything short of eternal punishment is unworthy of a 
God,’ answered Jupiter, Avith great dignity. ‘ Apollo, bring 
me a wheel of your chariot.’ 

‘ What shall I do to-morrow morning? ’ inqumed the God 
of Light. 

‘ Order an eclipse,’ replied Joa-c. ‘ Bind the insolent 
wretch to the Avheel; hurl him to Hades ; its motion shall 
bo perpetual.’ 

‘ What am I to bind him Avith? ’ inquired Hercules. 

‘The girdle of Venus,’ replied the Thunderer. 

‘What is all this? ’ inquired Juno, advancing, pale and 
agitated. 

‘ Come along; you .shall see,’ ansAvered Jupiter. ‘ FoIIoav 
me, folloAv me.’ 

They all folloAved the leader, all the Gods, all the Genii; 
in the midst, the l^raAvny husband of Hebe beaiing Ixion 
aloft, bound to the fatal Avheel. They reached the terrace; 


IXION IN HEAVEN. 


297 


they descended the sparkling steps of lapis-lazuli. Hercules 
held his burthen on high, ready, at a nod, to plunge the 
hapless but presumptuous mortal through space into Hades. 
The heavenly group surrounded him, and peeped over the 
starry abyss. It was a fine moral, and demonstrated the 
usual infelicity that attends unequal connections. 

‘ Celestial despot! ’ said Ixion. 

In a moment all sounds were hushed, as they listened to 
the last words of the unrivalled victim. Juno, in despair, 
leant uj^on the respective arms of Venus and Minerva. 

‘ Celestial despot! ’ said Ixion, ‘ I defy the immortal in¬ 
genuity of thy cruelty. My memory must be as eternal aa 
thy torture : that will support me.’ 


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THE INEEENAL MAEEIAGE. 


Proserpine was the daughter of Jupiter and Ceres. Pluto, the 
God of Hell, became enamoured of her. His addresses were 
favoured by her father, but opposed by Ceres. Under these cir¬ 
cumstances, he surprised lier on the plains of Enna, and carried 
her oil' in his chariot. 


THE INFEENAL MAEEIAGE. 


PART I. 


I. 

Tt was clearly a runaway matcli—never indeed was sncli a 
sublime elopement. The four horses were coal-black, with 
blood-red manes and tails ; and they were shod wuth rubies, 
ddiey were harnessed to a basaltic car by a single rein of 
flame. Wa^dng his double-pronged trident in the air, the 
God struck the blue breast of Cyane, and the waters 
instantly parted. In rushed the wild chariot, the pale and in¬ 
sensible Proserpine clinging to the breast of her grim lover. 

Through the depths of the hitherto unfathomed lake the 
infernal steeds held their breathless course. The car jolted 
against its bed. ‘ Save me ! ’ exclaimed the future Queen 
of Hades, and she clung with renewed energy to the bosom 
of the dark bridegroom. The earth opened; they entered 
the kingdom of the Gnomes. Here Pluto was popular. 
The lurid populace gave him a loud shout. The chariot 
whirled along through shadowy cities and by dim highw^ays, 
swarming with a busy race of shades. 

‘ Ye flowery meads of Enna ! ’ exclaimed the terrified 
Proserpine, ‘ shall I never view you again ? What an 
execrable climate ! ’ 

‘ Here, however, in-door nature is charming,’ responded 
Pluto. ‘ ’Tis a great nation of manufacturers. You are 
better, I hope, my Proserpine. The passage of the water is 
never very agreeable, especially to ladies.’ 

‘ And wdiich is our next stage ? ’ inquired Proseiq')ine. 


302 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


‘ The centre of Earth/ replied Pluto. ‘ Travelling is so 
much improved that at this rate we shall reach Hades 
before night.’ 

‘ Alas ! ’ exclaimed Proserpine, ‘ is not this night ? ’ 

‘ You are not unhappy, my Proserpine ? ’ 

‘ Beloved of my heart, I have given up everything for 
you! I do not repent, but I am thinking of my mother.’ 

‘ Time will pacify the Lady Ceres. What is done cannot 
be undone. In the winter, when a residence among us is 
even desirable, I should not be surprised were she to pay 
ns a visit.’ 

‘ Her prejudices are so strong,’ murmured the bride. ‘ 0 I 
my Pluto, I hope your family will be kind ta me.’ 

‘ Who could be unkind to Proserpine ? Ours is a very 
domestic circle. I can assure you that everything is -so 
well ordered among us that I have no recollection of a 
domestic broil.’ 

‘ But marriage is such a revolution in a bachelor’s estab¬ 
lishment,’ replied Proserpine, despondingly. ‘To tell the 
truth, too, I am half frightened at the thought of the Furies. 
I have heard that their tempers are so violent.’ 

‘ They mean well; their feelings are strong, but thnir 
hearts are in the right place. I flatter myself you will 
like my nieces, the Parc£e. They are accomplished, and 
favourites among the men.’ 

‘ Indeed! ’ 

‘ Oh ! quite irresistible.’ 

‘ My heart misgives me. I wish you had at least paid 
them the compliment of apprising them of our marriage.’ 

‘ Cheer up. For myself, I have none but pleasant antici¬ 
pations. I long to be at home once more by my own fire¬ 
side, and patting my faithful Cerberus.’ 

‘ I think I shall like Cerberus ; I am fond of dogs.’ 

‘ I am sure you will. He is the most faithful creatui*e in 
the world.’ 

‘ Is he very fierce ? ’ 

‘ Not if he takes a fancy to you; and who can help taking 
a fancy to Proserpine ? ’ 

‘ Ah ! my Pluto, you are in love.’ 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


303 


II. 

‘ Is tliis Hades ? ’ inquired Proserpine. 

An avenue of colossal bulls, sculptured in basalt and 
breathing living flame, led to gates of brass, adorned with 
friezes of rubies, representing the wars and discomfiture of 
the Titans. A crimson cloud concealed the height of the 
immense portal, and on either side hovered o’er the extend¬ 
ing walls of the city; a watch-tower or a battlement oc¬ 
casionally flashing forth, and forcing their forms through 
the lurid obscurity, 

‘ Queen of Hades! welcome to your capital! ’ exclaimed 
Pluto. 

The monarch rose in his car and whirled a javelin at the 
gates. There was an awful clang, and then a still more 
terrible growl. 

‘ My faithful Cerberus!’ exclaimed the King. 

The portals flew open, and revealed the gigantic form of 
the celebrated watch-dog of Hell. It completely filled 
their wide expanse. Who but Pluto could have viewed 
without horror that enormous body covered with shaggy 
spikes, those frightful paws clothed with claws of steel, 
that tail like a boa constrictor, those fiery eyes that blazed 
like the blood-red lamps in a pharos, and those three forky 
tongues, round each of which were entwined a vigorous 
family of green rattlesnakes ! 

‘ Ah! Cerby ! Cerby ! ’ exclaimed Pluto; ‘ my fond and 
faithful Cerby! ’ 

Proserpine screamed as the animal gambolled up to the 
side of the chariot and held out its paw to its master. 
Then, licking the royal palm with its three tongues at once, 
it renewed its station with a wag of its tail which raised 
such a cloud of dust that for a few minutes nothing was 
perceptible. 

‘ The monster! ’ exclaimed Proserpine. 

‘ My love,’ exclaimed Pluto, with astonishment. 

‘ The hideous brute ! ’ 

‘ My dear! ’ exclaimed Pluto. 


304 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


‘ He shall never touch me.’ 

‘ Proserpine ! ’ 

‘ Don’t touch me with that hand. Ton never shall touch 
me, if you allow that disgusting animal to lick your hand.’ 

‘ I beg to inform you that there are few beings of any 
kind for whom I have a greater esteem than that faithful 
and affectionate beast.’ 

‘ Oh! if you like Cerberus better than me, I have no 
more to say,’ exclaimed the bride, bridling up with indigna¬ 
tion. 

‘ My Proserpine is perverse,’ replied Pluto ; ‘ her memory 
has scarcely done me justice.’ 

‘ I am sure you said you liked Cerberus better than any¬ 
thing in the world,’ continued the Goddess, with a voice 
trembling with passion. 

‘ I said no such thing,’ replied Pluto, somewhat sternly. 
‘I see how it is,’ replied Proserpine, with a sob; ‘ you aro 
tired of me.’ 

‘ My beloved ! ’ 

‘ I never expected this.’ 

‘ My child ! ’ 

‘ Was it for this I left my mother ? ’ 

‘ Powers of Hades ! How you can say such things 
‘ Broke her heart ? ’ 

‘ Proserpine ! Proserpine ! ’ 

‘ Gave up daylight ? ’ 

‘For the sake of Heaven, then, calm yourself! ’ 

‘ Sacrificed everything ? ’ 

‘ ]\[y love ! my life ! my angel ! what is all this ? ’ 

‘ And then to be abused for the sahe of a doo-! ’ 

O 

‘By all the shades of Hell, but this is enough to 
provoke even immortals. What have I done, said, or 
thought, to iustify such treatment ? ’ 

‘Oh! me!’ 

‘ Proserpine ! ’ 

‘ Heigho ! ’ 

‘ Proserpine ! Proserpine !’ 

‘ So soon is the veil withdrawn !’ 


^KE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


305 


‘ Dearest, you must be unwell. This journey has been 
too much for you.’ 

‘ On our very bridal day to be so treated ! ’ 

‘ Soul of my existence, don’t make me mad. I love you, 

I adore you; I have no hope, no wish, no thought but you. 

I swear it; I swear it by ray sceptre and my throne. 
Speak, speak to your Pluto : tell him all your wish, all your 
desire. What would you have me do ? ’ 

‘ Shoot that horrid beast.’ 

‘ Ah ! me ! ’ 

‘ What, you will not! I thought how it would be. I am 
Proserpine, your beloved, adored Proserpine. You have 
no wish, no hope, no thought but for me ! I have only to 
speak, and what I desire will be instantly done ! And I do 
speak, I tell you my wish, I express to you my desire, and 
I am instantly refused ! And what have I requested ? Is 
it such a mighty favour ? Is it anything unreasonable ? 
Is there, indeed, in my entreaty anything so vastly out of 
the way? The death of a dog, a disgusting animal, which 
has already shaken my nerves to pieces ; and if ever (here 
she hid her face in his breast), if ever that event should 
occur which both must desire, my Pluto, I am sure the 
very sight of that horrible beast will, I dare not say what it 
will do.’ 

Pluto looked puzzled. 

‘ Indeed, my Proserpine, it is not in my power to grant 
j^oiir request; for Cerberus is immortal, like ourselves.’ 

‘ Me ! miserable ! ’ 

‘ Some arrangement, however, may be made to keep him 
out of your sight and hearing. I can banish him.’ 

‘ Can you, indeed ? Oh! banish him, my Pluto ! pray 
banish him! I never shall be happy until Cerberus is 
banished.’ 

‘ I will do anything you desire; but I confess to you I 
Lave some misgivings. He is an invaluable w'atch-dog; 
and I fear, without his superintendence, the guardians of 
the gate will scarcely do their duty.’ 

‘ Oh ! yes : I am sure they will, my Pluto ! I will ask 
X 


306 


THE INFERNAL MiiRRIAGE. 


them to, I will ask them myself, I will request them, as a 
particular and personal favoim to myself, to be very careful 
indeed. And if they do their duty, and I am sure they 
will, they shall be styled, as a reward, “ Proserpine’s Own 
Guards.” ’ 

‘ A reward, indeed ! ’ said the enamoured monarch, as, 
with a sigh, he signed the order for the banishment of Cer¬ 
berus in the form of his promotion to the office of Master 
of the royal and imperial blood-hounds. 

III. 

The burning waves of Phlegethon assumed a lighter hue. 
It was morning. It was the morning after the arrival of 
Pluto and his unexpected bride. In one of the principal 
rooms of the palace three beautiful females, clothed in 
cerulean robes spangled with stars, and their heads adorned 
with golden crowns, were at work together. One held a 
distaff, from which the second spun ; and the third wielded 
an enormous pair of adamantine shears, with which she 
perpetually severed the labours of her sisters. Tall were 
they in stature and beautiful in form. Very fair; an ex¬ 
pression of haughty serenity pervaded their majestic coun¬ 
tenances. Their three companions, however, though 
apparently of the same sex, were of a different character. 
If women can ever be ugly, certainly these three ladies 
might put in a valid claim to that epithet. Their complexions 
were dark and withered, and their eyes, though bright, w^ere 
bloodshot. Scantily clothed in black garments, not un¬ 
stained with gore, their wan and offensive forms were but 
slightly veiled. Their hands were talons ; their feet cloven; 
and serpents were wreathed round their brows instead of 
hair. Their restless and agitated carriage afforded also not 
less striking contrast to the polished and aristocratic de¬ 
meanour of their companions. They paced the chamber 
with hurried and unequal steps, and wild and uncouth ges¬ 
tures ; waving, with a reckless ferocity, burning torches 
and whips of scorpions. It is hardly necessary to add that 


THE INFEKNAL MAKEIAaE. 


307 


these were the Furies, and that the conversation which I 
am about to report was carried on with the Fates. 

‘ A thousand serpents ! ' shrieked Tisiphone. ‘ I will 
never believe it.’ 

‘ Racks and flames ! ’ squeaked Megeera. ‘ It is im¬ 
possible.’ 

‘ Eternal torture ! ’ moaned Alecto. ‘ ’Tis a lie.’ 

‘ Not Jupiter himself should convince us! ’ the Furies 
joined in infernal chorus. 

‘ ’Tis nevertheless true,’ calmly observed the beautiful 
Clotho. 

‘ You will soon have the honour of being presented to 
her,’ added the serene Lachesis. 

‘ And whatever we may feel,’ observed the considerate 
Atropos, ‘ I think, my dear girls, you had better restrain 
yourselves.’ 

‘ And what sort of thing is she ? ’ inquired Tisiphone, 
with a shriek. 

‘ I have heard that she is lovely,’ answered Clotho. ‘In¬ 
deed, it is impossible to account for the afiair in any other 
way.’ 

‘’Tis neither possible to account for nor to justify it,’ 
squeaked Megaera. 

‘ Is there, indeed, a Queen in Hell ? ’ moaned Alecto. 

‘ We shall hold no more drawing-rooms,’ said Lachesis. 

‘ We will never attend hers,’ said the Furies. 

‘ You must,’ replied the Fates. 

‘ I have no doubt she will give herself airs,’ shrieked 
Tisiphone. 

‘ We must remember where she has been brought up, and 
be considerate,’ replied Lachesis. 

‘I dare say you three will get on very well with her,’ 
squeaked Megasra. ‘ You always get on well with people.’ 

‘ We must remember how very strange things here must 
appear to her,’ observed Atropos. 

‘ No one cap deny that there are some very disagreeable 
sights,’ said Clotho. 

‘ There is something in that,’ replied Tisiphone, looking 


THE iM'EliXAL MaKRIAGE. 


SOS 

ill the glass, and aiTanging* her serpents ; ‘ and for my part, 
poor girl, I almost pity her, when I think she will have to 
visit the Harpies.’ 

IV. 

At this moment four little pages entered the room, who, 
without exception, were the most hideous dwarfs that ever 
attended upon a monarch. They were clothed only in 
parti-coloured tunics, and their breasts and legs were quite 
bare. From the countenance of the first you would have 
supposed he was in a convulsion ; his hands were clenched 
and his hair stood on end : this was Terror ! The protruded 
veins of the second seemed ready to burst, aned his rubicund 
visage decidedly jiroved that he had blood in his head: this 
was Rage ! The third was of an ashen colour throughout: 

O O 

this was Paleness! And the fourth, with a countenance 
not without traces of beauty, was even more disgusting 
than his companions from the quantity of horrible flies, 
centipedes, snails, and other noisome, slimy, and indescrib< 
able monstrosities that were crawling all about his body 
and feeding on his decaying features. The name of this 
fourth page Tvas Death ! 

‘ The King and Queen ! ’ announced the Pages. 

Pluto, during the night, had prepared Proserpine for the 
worst, and had endeavoured to persuade her that his love 
would ever compensate for all annoyances. She was in 
excellent spirits and in very good humour; therefore, though 
she could with difficulty stifle a scream when she recognised 
the Furies, she received the congratulations of the Parca 3 
with much cordiality. 

‘ I have the pleasure, Proserpine, of presenting you to 
my family,’ said Pluto. 

‘ Who, I am sure, hope to make Hades agreeable to your 
]\rajesty,’ rejoined Clotho. The Furies uttered a suppressed 
sound between a murmur and a growl. 

‘ I have ordered the chariot,’ said Pluto. ‘ I propose to 
take the Queen a ride, and show her some of our lions.’ 

‘ She will, I am sure, be delighted,’ said Lachesis. 

‘ I long to see Ixion,’ said Proserpine. 


THE INEEENAL MAEEIAGE. 


309 


‘ Tlie wretch ! ’ shrieked Tisi23hone. 

‘ I cannot help thinking that he has been very unfairly 
treated,’ said Proserpine. 

‘ What! ’ squeaked Megeera. ‘ The ravisher ! ’ 

‘ Ay! it is all very well,’ replied Proserpine; ‘ hnt, for 
my part, if we knew the truth of that affair-’ 

‘ Is it possible that your Majesty can sj^eak in such a tono 
of levity of such an offender ? ’ shrieked Tisq^hone. 

‘ Is it possible ? ’ moaned Alecto. 

‘ Ah ! you have heard only one side of the question ; but 
for my part, knowing as much of Juno as I do-’ 

‘ The Queen of Heaven ! ’ observed Atropos, with an in- 
timidatino: Hance. 

‘ The Queen of Fiddlestick! ’ said Proserpine ; ‘ as great a 
flirt as ever existed, with all her prudish looks.’ 

The Fates and the Furies exchanged glances of astonish¬ 
ment and horror. 

‘ For my part,’ continued Proserpine, ‘ I make it a rule to 
support the weaker side, and nothing will ever persuade me 
that Ixion is not a victim, and a pitiable one.’ 

‘ Well! men generally have the best of it in these affairs,’ 
said Lachesis, with a forced smile. 

‘ Jnno ought to be ashamed of herself,’ said Proserpine. 
‘ Had I been in her situation, they should have tied me to a 
wheel first. At any rate, they ought to have punished him 
in Heaven. I have no idea of those people sending every 
mauvcuis sujet to Hell.’ 

‘ But what shall we do ? ’ inquired Pluto, who wished to 
turn the conversation. 

* Shall we turn out a sinner and hunt him for her Ma¬ 
jesty’s diversion ? ’ suggested Tisiphone, flanking her ser¬ 
pents. 

‘Nothing of the kind will ever divert me,’ said Proser¬ 
pine ; ‘ for I have no hesitation in saying that I do not at 
all approve of these eternal punishments, or, indeed, of any 
punishment whatever.’ 

‘ The heretic ! ’ whispered Tisiphone to Megaera. Alecto 
moaned. 




310 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


‘ It might be more interesting to her Majesty,’ said 
Atropos, ‘ to witness some of those extraordinary instances 
of predestined misery with which Hades abounds. Shall 
we visit CEdipns ? ’ 

‘ Poor fellow ! ’ exclaimed Proserpine. ‘ For myself, I 
wiJlmgly confess that Torture disgusts and Destiuy puzzles 
me.’ 

The Fates and the Furies all alike started. 

‘ I fdo not understand this riddle of Destiny,’ continued 
the young Queen. ‘ If you, ParcsB, have predestined that 
a man should commit a crime, it appears to me very unjust 
that you should afterwards call upon the Furies to punish 
him for its commission.’ 

‘But man is a free agent,’ observed Lachesis, in as mild 
a tone as she could command. 

‘ Then what becomes of Destiny ? ’ replied Proserpine. 

‘Destiny is eternal and irresistible,’ repHed Clotho. ‘All 
is ordained; but man is, nevertheless, master of his own 
actions.’ 

‘ I do not understand that,’ said Proserpine. 

‘ It is not meant to be understood,’ said Atropos ; ‘ but 
you must nevertheless believe it.’ 

‘ I make it a rule only to believe what I understand,’ 
replied Proserpine. 

‘ It appears,’ said Lachesis, with a blended glance of 
contempt and vengeance, ‘ that your Majesty, though a 
Goddess, is an Atheist.’ 

‘ As for that, anybody may call me just what they please, 
provided they do nothing else. So long as I am not tied 
to a wheel or whipped with scorpions for speaking my 
mind, I shall be as tolerant of the speech and acts of 
others as I expect them to be tolerant of mine. Come, 
Pluto, I am sure that the chariot must be ready! ’ 

So saying, her Majesty took the arm of her spouse, and 
with a haughty curtsey left the apartment. f 

‘ Did you ever 1 ’ shrieked Tisiphone, as the door closed. 1 

‘ NTo ! never ! ’ squeaked Megosra. S 

‘ Never ! never ! ’ moaned Alecto. ^ 


THE INFEENAL MAEKIAGE. 


311 


‘ She must understand what she believes, must she ? ’ 
said Lachesis, scarcely less irritated. 

‘ I never heard such nonsense,’ said Clotho. 

■ What next! ’ said Atropos. 

‘ Disgusted with Torture ! ’ exclaimed the Furies. 

‘ Puzzled with Destiny! ’ said the Fates. 


V. 

It was the third morning after the Infernal Marriage; 
the slumbering Proserpine reposed in the arms of the 
snoring Pluto. There was a loud knocking at the chamber- 
door. Pluto jumped up in the middle of a dream. 

‘ My life, what is the matter ? ’ exclaimed Proserpine. 

The knocking was repeated and increased. There was 
also a loud shout of ‘ treason, murder, and fire ! ’ 

‘ What is the matter ? ’ exclaimed the God, jumping out 
of bed and seizing his trident. ‘ Who is there ? ’ 

‘ Your pages, your faithful pages! Treason ! treason ! 
For the sake of Hell, open the door. Murder, fire, treason! ’ 

‘ Enter ! ’ said Pluto, as the door was unlocked. 

And Terror and Pago entered. 

‘ You frightful things, get out of the room! ’ cried 
Proserpine. 

‘ A moment, my angel! ’ said Pluto, ‘ a single moment. 
Be not alarmed, my best love ; I pray you be not alarmed. 
Well, imps, why am I disturbed ?’ 

‘ Oh ! ’ said Terror. Rage could not speak, but gnashed 
his teeth and stamped his feet. 

* 0-o-o-h ! ’ repeated Terror. 

‘ Speak, cursed imps ! ’ cried the enraged Pluto ; and he 
raised his arm. 

‘ A man ! a man! ’ cried Terror. ‘ Treason, treason ! a 
man ! a man ! ’ 

‘ What man ? ’ said Pluto, in a rage. 

‘ A man, a live man, has entered Hell! ’ 

‘ You don’t say so ? ’ said Proserpine; ‘ a man, a live 
man. Let me see him immediately.’ 

‘ Where is he ? ’ said Pluto; ‘ what is lie doing ? ’ 


312 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


‘ He is here, there, and everywhere ! asking for yonr 
wife, and singing like anything.’ 

‘ Proserpine ! ’ said Pinto, reproachfully; but, to do the 
God justice, he was more astounded than jealous. 

‘ I am sure I shall be delighted to see him; it is so long 
since I have seen a live man,’ said Proserpine. ‘ Who 
can he be ? A man, and a live man! Hoav delightful! 
It must be a messenger from my mother.’ 

‘ But how came he here ? ’ 

‘ Ah ! how came he here ? ’ echoed Terror. 

‘ NTo time must be lost! ’ exclaimed Pluto, scrambling on 
his robe. ‘ Seize him, and bring him into the council 
chamber. My charming Proserpine, excuse me for a 
moment.’ 

‘ Hot at all; I will accompany you.’ 

‘ But, my love, my sweetest, my own, this is business; 
these are affairs of state. The council chamber is not a 
place for you.’ 

‘And why not?’ said Proserpine. ‘I have no idea of 
ever leaving you for a moment. Why not for me as well 
as for the Fates and the Furies ? Am I not Queen ? I 
have no idea of such nonsense! ’ 

‘My love ! ’ said the deprecating husband. 

‘You don’t go without me,’ said' the imperious wife, 
seizing his robe. 

‘ I must,’ said Pluto. 

‘ Then you shall never return,’ said Proserpine. 

‘ Enchantress ! be reasonable.’ 

‘ I never was, and 1 never will be,’ replied the Goddess. 

‘ Treason ! treason ! ’ screamed Terror. 

‘ My love, I must go ! ’ 

‘ Pluto,’ said Proserpine, ‘ understand me once for all, 1 
will not be contradicted.’ 

Page stamped his foot. 

‘ Proserpine, understand me once for all, it is impossible,’ 
said the God, frowning. 

‘Aty Pluto!’ said the Queen. ‘Is it my Pluto wdio 
speaks thus sternly to me? Is it he who, but an hour 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


313 


ago, a slioi'fc hour ago, died upon niy bosom iu transports 
and stifled me with kisses ! Unhappy woman ! wretched, 
miserable Proserpine! Oh! my mother! my kind, my 
aSectionate mother I Have I disobeyed you for this 1 For 
this have I deserted you ! For this have I broken your 
beloved heart! ’ She buried her face in the crimson 
counterpane, and bedewed its gorgeous embroidery with 
her fast-flowing tears. 

‘ Treason ! ’ shouted Terror. 

‘ Ha ! ha ! ha 1 ’ exclaimed the hysterical Proserpine. 

‘ What am I to do ? ’ cried Pluto. ‘ Proserpine, my 
adored, my beloved, my enchanting Proserpine, compose 
yourself; for my sake, compose yourself. I love you! I 
adore you! You know it 1 oh 1 indeed you know it ! ’ 

The hysterics increased. 

‘ Treason ! treason ! ’ shouted Terror. 

‘ Hold your infernal tongue,’ said Pluto. ‘ What do I 
care for treason when the Queen is in this state ? ’ He 
knelt by the bedside, and tried to stop her mouth wifh 
kisses, and ever and anon whispered his passion. ‘ JMy 
Proserpine, I beseech you to be calm; I will do anything 
you like. Come, come, then, to the council 1 ’ 

The hysterics ceased ; the Queen clasped him in her arms 
and rewarded him with a thousand embraces. Then, jump¬ 
ing lip, she bathed her swollen eyes with a beautiful cos¬ 
metic that she and her maidens had distilled from the 
flowers of Enna; and, wrapping herself up in her shawl, 
descended with his Majesty, who was quite as much 
puzzled about the cause of this disturbance as when he 
was first roused. 

vr. 

Crossing an immense covered bridge, the origin of the 
Bridge of Sighs at Venice, over the royal gardens, which 
consisted entirely of cypress, the roj^al pair, preceded by 
the pages in waiting, entered the council chamber. The 
council was already assembled. On either side of a throne 
of sulphur, from which issued the four infernal rivers of 


314 


THE INTERNAL jVIARRIAGE. 


Lethe, Phlegethon, Cocytus, and Acheron, were ranged the 
Enmenides and the Parcse. Lachesis and her sisters turned 
up' their noses when they observed Proserpine; but the 
Eumenides could not stifle their fury, in spite of the hints 
of their more subdued but not less malignant companions. 

‘ What is all this ? ’ inquired Pluto. 

‘ The constitution is in danger,’ said the Parcae in 
chorus. 

‘ Both in church and state,’ added the Furies. ‘ ’Tis a 
case of treason and blasphemy;’ and they waved their 
torches and shook their whips with delighted anticipation 
of their use. 

‘ Detail the circumstances,’ said Pluto, waving his hand 
majestically to Lachesis, in whose good sense he had great 
confidence. 

‘A man, a living man, has entered your kingdom, un¬ 
known and unnoticed,’ said Lachesis. 

‘ By my sceptre, is it true ? ’ said the astonished King. 
‘ Is he seized ? ’ 

‘ The extraordinary mortal baffles our eflbrts,’ said 
Lachesis. ‘ He bears with him a lyi’e, the charmed gift of 
Apollo, and so seducing are his strains that in vain our 
guards advance to arrest his course; they immediately 
begin dancing, and he easily eludes their eflbrts. The 
general confusion is indescribable. All business is at a 
standstill: Ixion rests upon his wheel; old Sisyphus sits 
down on his mountain, and his stone has fallen with a 
terrible plash into Acheron. In short, unless we are 
energetic, we are on the eve of a revolution.’ 

‘ His purpose ? ’ 

‘ He seeks yourself and—her Majesty,’ added Lachesis, 
with a sneer. 

‘Immediately announce that we wiU receive him.’ 

The unexpected guest was not slow in acknowledgino* 
the royal summons. A hasty treaty was drawn up; he 
was to enter the palace unmolested, on condition that he 
ceased playing his lyre. The Fates and the Furies ex¬ 
changed significant glances as his approacli was announced. 


THE INFEENAL MAEEIAGE. 


315 


The man, the live man, who had committed the unprece¬ 
dented crime of entering Hell without a licence, and the 
previous deposit of his soul as security for the good be¬ 
haviour of his body, stood before the surprised and indig¬ 
nant Court of Hades. Tall and graceful in stature, and 
crowned with laurels, Proserpine was glad to observe that 
the man, who was evidently famous, was also good-looking. 

‘ Thy purpose, mortal ? ’ inquired Pluto, with awful 
majesty. 

‘ Mercy ! ’ answered the stranger in a voice of exquisite 
melody, and sufficiently embarrassed to render him in¬ 
teresting. 

‘ What is mercy ? ’ inquired the Fates and the Furies. 

‘ Speak, stranger, without fear,’ said Proserpine. ‘ Thy 
name ?’ 

‘ Is Orpheus; but a few days back the too happy hus¬ 
band of the enchanting Eurydice. Alas ! dread King, and 
thou too, beautiful and benignant partner of his throne, I 
won her by my lyre, and by my lyre I would redeem her. 
Know, then, that in the very glow of our gratified passion 
a serpent crept under the flowers on which we reposed, 
and by a fatal sting summoned my adored fco the shades. 
Why did it not also summon me ? I will not say why 
should I not have been the victim in her stead; for I feel 
too keenly that the doom of Eurydice would not have been 
less forlorn, had she been the wretched being who had 
been spared to life. 0 King ! they whispered on earth 
that thou too hadst yielded thy heart to the charms of 
love. Pluto, they whispered, is no longer stern: Pluto 
also feels the all-subduing influence of beauty. Dread 
monarch, by the self-same passion that rages in our breasts 
alike, I implore thy mercy. Thou hast risen from the 
couch of love, the arm of thy adored has pressed upon thy 
heart, her honied lips have clung with rapture to thine 
still echo in thy ears all the enchanting phrases of her 
idolatry. Then, by the memory of these, by all the higher 
and inefiable joys to which these lead. King of Hades, 
spare me, oh! spare me, Eurydice! ’ 


316 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


Proserpine tlirew lier arms round the neck of her hus¬ 
band, and, hiding her face in his breast, wept. 

‘ Hash mortal, you demand that which is not in the 
power of Pluto to concede,’ said Lachesis. 

‘ I have heard much of treason since my entrance into 
Hades,’ replied Orpheus, ‘ and this sounds like it.’ 

‘ Mortal! ’ exclaimed Clotho, with contempt. 

‘ FTor is it in your power to return, sir,’ said Tisiphone, 
shaking her whip. 

‘We have accounts to settle with you,’ said Megsera. 

‘ Spare her, spare her,’ murmured Proserpine to her 
lover. .r 

‘ King of Hades ! ’ said Lachesis, with much dignity, 
‘ I hold a responsible office in your realm, and I claim the 
constitutional privilege of your attention. I j)rotest against 
the undue influence of the Queen. She is a power un¬ 
known in our constitution, and an irresponsible agent that 
I will not recognise. Let her go back to the drawing-room, 
where all will bow to her.’ 

‘ Hag ! ’ exclaimed Proserpine. ‘ King of Hades, I, too, 
can appeal to you. Have I accepted your crown to be in¬ 
sulted by your subjects ?’ 

‘ A subject, may it please your Majesty, who has duties as 
strictly defined by our infernal constitution as those of 
your royal spouse; duties, too, which, let me tell you, 
IMadam, I and my order are resolved to perform.’ 

‘ Gods of Olympus ! ’ cried Proserpine. ‘ Is this to be a 
Queen ? ’ 

‘Before we proceed further in this discussion,’ said 
Lachesis, ‘ I must move an inquiry into the conduct of his 
Excellency the Governor of the Gates. I move, then, that 
Cerberus be summoned.’ 

Pluto started, and the blood rose to his dark cheek. ‘ I 
have not yet had an opportunity of mentioning,’ said his 
Majesty, in a low tone, and with an air of considerable con¬ 
fusion, ‘ that I have thought fit, as a reward for his past 
services, to promote Cerberus to the office of the Master of 
the Hounds. He therefore is no loiiger responsible.’ 


THE INTERNAL CARRIAGE. 317 

‘ 0—h! ’ slirieked the Furies, as they elevated their 
hideous eyes. 

‘ The constitution has invested your Majesty with a power 
in the appointment of your Officers of State wdiich your 
Majesty has undoubtedly a right to exercise,’ said Lachesis. 
‘ What degree of discretion it anticipated in the exercise, it 
is now unnecessary, and w'ould be extremely disagreeable, 
to discuss. I shall not ventm’e to inquire by what new 
influence your Majesty has been guided in the i^resent 
instance. The consequence of your Majesty’s conduct is 
obvious, in the very difficult situation in which your realm 
is now placed. For myself and my colleagues, I have only 
to observe that we decline, under this crisis, any further 
responsibility; and the distafi* and the shears are at your 
Majesty’s service the moment your Majesty may find con¬ 
venient successors to the present holders. As a last favour, 
in addition to the many we are proud to remember we have 
received from your Majesty, we entreat that we may be 
relieved from their burthen as quickly as jDOSsible.’ (Loud 
cheers from the Eumenides.) 

‘We had better recall Cerberus,’ said Pluto, alarmed, 
‘ and send this mortal about his business.’ 

‘Notwithout Eurydice. Oh ! not without Eurydice,’ said 
the Queen. 

‘ Silence, Proserpine,’ said Pluto. 

‘ May it please your Majesty,’ said Lachesis, ‘ I am doubt¬ 
ful whether we have the power of expelling anyone from 
Hades. It is not less the law that a mortal cannot remain 
here; and it is too notorious for me to mention the fact 
that none here have the power of inflicting death.’ 

‘ Of what use are all your laws,’ exclaimed Proserpine, ‘ if 
they are only to perplex us ? As there are no statutes to 
guide us, it is obvious that the King’s will is supreme. 
Let Orpheus depart, then, with his bride.’ 

‘The latter suggestion is clearly illegal,’ said Lachesis. 

‘Lachesis, and ye, her sisters,’ said Proserpine, ‘forget, 
I beseech you, any warm -words that may have passed 


318 


THE INFEKN^VL MAKKIAGE. 


bety/oen ns, and, as a personal favour to one wbo would 
willingly be your friend, release Eurydice. Wbat! you 
shake your heads ! Nay; of what importance can be a 
single miserable shade, and one, too, summoned so cruelly 
before her time, in these thickly-peopled regions ? ’ 

‘ ’Tis the principle,’ said Lachesis; ‘ ’tis the principle. Con¬ 
cession is ever fatal, however slight. Grant this demand; 
others, and greater, will quickly follow. Mercy becomes a 
precedent, and the realm is ruined.’ 

‘ Ruined ! ’ echoed the Euries. 

‘ And I say preserved! ’ exclaimed Proserpine with energy. 

‘ The State is in confusion, and you yourselves confess that 
you know not how to remedy it. Unable to suggest a 
course, follow mine. I am the advocate of Mercy; I am the 
advocate of Concession; and, as you despise all higher im¬ 
pulses, I meet you on your own grounds. I am their 
advocate for the sake of policy, of expediency.’ 

‘ Never! ’ said the Fates. 

‘ Never ! ’ shrieked the Furies. 

‘ What, then, will you do with Orpheus ? ’ 

The Parc 80 shook their heads ; even the Eumenides were 
silent. 

‘ Then you are unable to carry on the Kang’s government; 
for Orpheus must be disposed of; alFagree to that. Pluto, 
reject these counsellors, at once insulting and incapable. 
Give me the distaff and the fatal shears. At once form a 
new Cabinet; and let the release of Orpheus and Eurydice 
be the basis of their policy.’ She threw her arms round his 
neck and whispered in his ear. 

Pluto was perplexed; his confidence in the Parcce was 
shaken. A.difficulty had occurred with which they could 
not cope. It was true the difficulty had been occasioned 
by a departure from their own exclusive and restrictive 
policy. It was clear that the gates of Hell ought never to 
have been opened to the stranger; but opened they had been. 
Forced to decide, he decided on the side of expediency, and 
signed a decree for the departure of Orpheus and Eurydice. 
The Parcaa immediately resigned their posts, and the Furies 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


319 


Tvalked off in a huff. Thus, on the third day of the Infernal 
Mariiage, Pluto found that he had quarrelled with all his 
family, and that his ancient administration was broken up. 
The King was without a friend, and Hell was without a 
Government! 


320 


THE IM'Eli.N'AL ^URBIAGE* 


PART 11. 


I. 

Let us cliange tlie scene from Hades to Olympus. 

A chariot drawn by dragons hovered over that superb 
palace whose sparkling steps of lapis-lazuli were once 
pressed by the daring foot of Ixion. It descended into the 
beautiful gardens, and Ceres, stepping out, sought the 
presence of Jove. 

‘ Father of Gods and men,’ said the majestic mother of 
Proserpine, ‘ listen to a distracted parent! All my hopes 
Avere centred in my daughter, the daughter of Avhom you 
have deprived me. Is it for this that I endured the pangs 
of childbirth? Is it for this that I suckled her on this 
miserable bosom ? Is it for this that I tended her girlish 
innocence, Avatched Avith Augilant fondness the develop¬ 
ment of her yonthful mind, and cultured Avith a thousand 
graces and accomplishments her gifted and unriA^alled 
promise ? to lose her for ever ! ’ 

‘ Beloved Bona Dea,’ replied JoA^e, ‘ calm yourself! ’ 

‘ Jupiter, you forget that I am a mother.’ 

‘ It is the recollection of that happy circumstance that 
alone should make you satisfied.’ 

‘ Do you mock me ? Where is my daughter r ’ 

‘ In the A'ery situation you should desire. In her destiny 
all is fulfilled Avhich the most affectionate mother could 
liope. What was the object of all your care and all her 
accomplishments ? a goodpa?’/ie; and she has made oue.’ 

‘ To reign in Hell! ’ 

‘ “ Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.” "What I 
Avould you have had her a cup-bearer, like Hebe, or a mes¬ 
senger, like Hermes ? Was the daughter of JoA’e and Ceres 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


321 


to be destined to a mere place in our household! Lady ! 
she is the object of envy to half the Goddesses. Bating our 
own bed, which she could not share, what lot more distin¬ 
guished than hers ? Recollect that Goddesses, who desire a 
becoming match, have a very limited circle to elect from. 
Even Venus was obliged to put up with Vulcan. It will 
not do to be too nice. Thank your stars that she is not an 
old maid like Mineiwa.’ 

‘But Mars? he loved her.” 

‘ A young officer only with his half-pay, however good 
his connections, is surely not a proper mate for our 
daughter.’ 

‘ Apollo ? ’ 

‘I have no opinion of a literary son-in-law. These 
scribblers are at present the fashion, and are very well to 
ask to dinner ; but I confess a more intimate connection 
with them is not at all to my taste.’ 

‘ I meet Apollo everywhere.’ 

‘ The truth is, he is courted because every one is afraid 
of him. He is the editor of a daily journal, and under tlie 
pretence of thromng light upon every subject, brings a 
great many disagreeable things into notice, which is exces¬ 
sively inconvenient. Hobody likes to be paragraphed ; and 
for my part I should only be too happy to extinguish 
the Sun and every other newspaper were it only in my 
power.’ 

‘ But Pluto is so old, and so ugly, and, all agree, so ill- 
tempered.’ 

‘ He has a splendid income, a magnificent estate ; his 
settlements are worthy of his means. This ought to 
satisfy a mother ; and his political influence is necessary to 
me, and this satisfies a father.’ 

‘ But the heart-’ 

‘As for that, she fancies she loves him; and whether 
she do or not, these feelings, we know, never last. Rest 
assured, my dear Ceres, that our girl has made a brilliant 
match, in spite of the gloomy atmosphere in which she has 
to reside.’ 

y 



:322 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


‘ It must end in misery. I know Proserpine. I confess 
it with tears, she is a spoiled child.’ 

‘ This may occasion Pluto many uneasy moments ; but 
that is nothing to you or me. Between ourselves, I shall 
not he at all surprised if she plague his life out.’ 

‘ But how can she consort with the Fates ? How is it 
possible for her to associate with the Furies ? She, who is 
used to the gayest and most amiable society in the world ? 
Indeed, indeed, ’tis an ill-assorted union! ’ 

‘ They are united, however; and, take my word for it, 
ray dear madam, that you had better leave Pluto alone. 
The interference of a mother-in-law is proverbially never 
veiy felicitous.’ 

II. 

In the meantime affairs went on swimmingly in Tartarus. 
The obstinate Fates and the sulky Furies were unwittingly 
the cause of universal satisfaction. Everyone enjoyed him¬ 
self, and enjoyment when it is unexpected is doubly satis¬ 
factory. Tantalus, Sisyphus, and Ixion, for the first time 
duiing their punishment, had an opportunity for a little 
conversation. 

‘Long live our reforming Queen,’ said the ex-king of 
Lydia. ‘You cannot conceive, my dear companions, any¬ 
thing more delightful than this*long-coveted draught of 
cold water; its flavour far surpasses the memory of my 
choicest wines. And as for this delicious fruit, one must 
live in a hot climate, like our present one, sufficiently to 
appreciate its refreshing gust. I would, my dear friends, 
you could only share my banquet.’ 

‘ Your Majesty is very kind,’ replied Sisyphus, ‘ but it 
seems to me that nothing in the world will ever induce me 
again to move. One must have toiled for ages to compre¬ 
hend the rapturous sense of repose that now pervades my 
exhausted frame. Is it possible that that damned stone 
can really have disappeared?’. 

‘ You say truly,’ said Ixion, ‘ the couches of Olympus 
cannot compare with this resting wheel.’ 

‘ Hoble Sisyphus,’ rejoined Tantalus, ‘ we are both of us 
acquainted 'with the cause of our companion’s presence in 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


323 


tlioso infernal regions, since his daring exploit lias had the 
good fortune of being celebrated by one of the fashionable 
authors of this part of the world.’ 

‘ I have never had time to read his work,’ interrupted 
Ixion. ‘ What sort of a fellow is he ? ’ 

‘ One of the most conceited dogs that I ever met with,’ 
replied the King. ‘ He thinks he is a great genius, and 
perhaps he has some little talent for the extravagant.’ 

‘ Are there any critics in Hell ? ’ 

‘ Myriads. They abound about the marshes of Cocytus, 
where they croak furiously. They are all to a man against 
our author.’ 

‘ That speaks more to his credit than his own self-opinion,’ 
rejoined Ixion. 

‘A nou« moutons!' exclaimed Tantalus; ‘I was about to 
observe that I am curious to learn for what reason our 
friend Sisyphus was doomed to his late terrible exertions.’ 

‘ For the simplest in the world,’ replied the object of tho 
inquiry ; ‘ because I was not a hypocrite. Ho one ever led 
a pleasanter life than myself, and no one was more popular 
in society. I was considered, as they phrased it, the most 
long-headed prince of my time, and was in truth a finished 
man of the world. I had not an acquaintance whom I had 
not taken in, and gods and men alike favoured me. In an 
unlucky moment, however, I offended the infernal deities, 
and it was then suddenly discovered that I was the most 
.abandoned character of my age. You know the rest.’ 

‘ You seem,’ exclaimed Tantalus, ‘ to be relating my 
own history; for I myself led a reckless career with im¬ 
punity, until some of the Gods did me the honour of dining 
with me, and were dissatisfied with the repast. I am con¬ 
vinced myself that, provided a man frequent the temples^ 
and observe with strictness the sacred festivals, such is tho 
force of public opinion, that there is no crime which ho 
may not commit without hazard.’ 

‘ Long live hypocrisy! ’ exclaimed Ixion. ‘ It is not my 
forte. But if I began life anew, I would be more observant 
in my sacilfices.’ 


THE INFEENAL r.IAEEIAGE. 


324 

‘ Who could have anticipated this wonderful revoliHiou !’ 
exclaimed Sisyphus, stretching himself. ‘ I wonder what 
will occur next! Perhaps Ave shall be all released.’ 

‘You say truly,’ said Ixion. ‘ I am grateful to our re 
forming Queen ; but I have no idea of stoj^ping here. This 
cursed wheel indeed no longer whirls; but I confess my 
expectations Avill be much disappointed if I cannot free 
myself from these adamantine bonds that fix me to its orb.’ 

‘ And one cannot drink Avater for ever,’ said Tantalus. 

‘ D—n all half measures,’ said Ixion. ‘ We must proceed 
in this system of amelioration.’ 

‘ Without doubt,’ responded his companion. 

‘ The Queen must have a party,’ continued, the audacious 
loA^er of Juno. ‘ The Pates and the Furies never can be 
conciliated. It is evident to me that she must fall unless 
she unbinds these chains of mine.’ 

‘ And grants me full liberty of egress and regress,’ ex¬ 
claimed Sisyphus. 

‘ And me a bottle of the finest golden Avine of Lydia,’ 
said Tantalus. 

III. 

The infernal honeymoon Avas over. A cloud appeared in 
the hitherto serene heaven of the royal loA'ers. Proserpine 
became unwell. A mysterious languor pervaded her frame ; 
her accustomed hilarity deserted her. She gave up her 
daily rides ; she never quitted the palace, scarcely her 
chamber. All day long she remained lying on a sofa, and 
Avhenever Pluto endeavoured to console her she went into 
hysterics. His Majesty Avas quite miserable, and the Fates 
and the Furies began to hold up their heads. The two 
court physicians could throAv no light upon the complaint, 
Avhich baffled all their remedies. These, indeed, AA^ere not 
numerous, for the Uvo physicians possessed each only one 
idea. With one every complaint Avas nervous; the other 
traced everything to the liver. The name of the first Avas 
Hr. Blue-Devil; and of the oHier Hi-. Blue-Pill. They Avere 
most eminent men. 

Her Majesty getting Averse every day, Pluto, in despair, 


THE INFERNjVL MARRIAGE. 


325 


tlctermhied to send for ^sculapius. It was a long way to 
send for a physician ; hut then he was the most fashionable 
one in the world. He cared not how far he travelled to 
visit a patient, because he was paid by the mile; and it was 
calculated that his fee for quitting earth, and attending the 
Queen of Hell, would allow him to leave off business. 

What a wise physician was Hlsculapius ! Physic was his 
abhorrence. He never was known, in the whole course of 
his practice, ever to have prescribed a single drug. He 
was a handsome man, with a flowing beard curiously per¬ 
fumed, and a robe of the choicest purple. He twirled a 
cane of agate, round which was twined a serpent of pre¬ 
cious stones, the gift of Juno, and he rode in a chariot 
drawn by horses of the Sun. When he visited Proserpine, 
he neither examined her tongue nor felt her pulse, but gave 
her an account of a fancy ball which he had attended the 
last evening he passed on terra firma. His details were so 
interesting that the Queen soon felt better. The next day 
he renewed his visit, and gave her an account of a new 
singer that had appeared at Ephesus. The effect of this 
recital was so satisfactory, that a bulletin in the evening an¬ 
nounced that the Queen was convalescent. The third day 
iEsculapius took his departure, having previously enjoined 
change of scene for her Majesty, and a visit to the Elysiau 
Fields! 


IV. 

‘ Heh, hell! ’ shrieked Tisiphone. 

‘ Hah, hah ! ’ squeaked IMegasra. 

‘ Hoh, hoh ! ’ moaned Alecto. 

‘ How or never,’ said the infernal sisters. ‘ There is a 
decided reaction. The moment she embarks, unquestionably 
we will flare up.’ So they ran off to the Fates. 

‘ We must be prudent,’ said Clotho. 

‘ Our time is not come,’ remarked Lachesis. 

‘ I wish the reaction was more decided,’ said Atropos; 
‘ but it is a great thing that they are going to be parted, 
for the King must remain.’ 


326 


TUE INFERNAL JMARRIAGE. 


The opposition party, although aiming at the same result, 
was therefore evidently divided as to the means by which 
it was to be obtained. The sanguine Furies were for fight¬ 
ing it out at once, and talked bravely of the strong conser¬ 
vative spirit only dormant in Tartarus. Even the Radicals 
themselves are dissatisfied: Tantalus is no longer contented 
with water, or Ixion with repose. But the circumspect 
Fates felt that a false step at present could never be re¬ 
gained. They talked, therefore, of watching events. Both 
divisions, however, agreed that the royal embarkation was 
to bo the signal for renewed intrigues and renovated exer¬ 
tions. 

v. 

When Proserpine was assured that she must be parted 
for a time from Pluto, she was inconsolable. They passed 
the night in sorrowful embraces. She vowed that she 
could not live a day without him, and that she certainly 
should die before she reached the first post. The mighty 
heart of the King of Hades was torn to pieces with con¬ 
tending emotions. In the agony of his overwhelming pas¬ 
sion the security of his realm seemed of secondary import¬ 
ance compared with the happiness of his wife. Fear and 
hatred of the Parcte and the Eumenides equalled, however, 
in the breast of Proserpine, her affection for her husband. 
The consciousness that his absence would be a signal for a 
revolution, and that the crown of Tartarus might be lost 
to her expected offspring, animated her with a spirit of 
heroism. She reconciled herself to the terrible separation, 
on condition that Pluto wrote to her every day. 

‘ Adieu ! my best, my only beloved ! ’ ejaculated the un¬ 
happy Queen; ‘do not forget me for a moment; and let 
nothing in the world induce you to speak to any of those 
horrid people. I know them; I know exactly what they 
will be at: the moment I am gone they will commence 
their intrigues for the restoration of the reign of doom and 
torture. Do not listen to them, my Pluto. Sooner than 
have recourse to them, seek assistance from their former 
victims.’ 


THE INFERNAL I^LIRRIAGE. 


327 


‘ Calm yoiirself, my Proserpine. Anticipate no evil. I 
shall be firm ; do not doubt me. I will cling with tenacity 
to that juste milieu under which we have hitherto so 
eminently prospered. Neither the Parcae and the Eume- 
nides, nor Ixion and his friends, shall advance a point. I 
will keep each faction in awe by the bugbear of the other’s 
supremacy. Trust me, I am a profound politician.’ 


VI. 

It was determined that the progress of Proserpine to the 
Elysian Fields should be celebrated with a pomp and mag¬ 
nificence becoming her exalted station. The day of her 
departure was proclaimed as a high festival in Hell. 
Tiresias, absent on a secret mission, had been summoned 
back by Pluto, and appointed to attend her Majesty during 
her journey and her visit, for Pluto had the greatest con¬ 
fidence in his discretion. Besides, as her Majesty had not 
at present the advantage of any female society, it was ne¬ 
cessary that she should be amused; and Tiresias, though 
old, ugly, and blind, was a wit as well as a philosopher, 
the most distinguished diplomatist of his age, and con¬ 
sidered the best company in Hades. 

An immense crowd was assembled round- the gates of the 
palace on the morn of the royal departure. With what 
anxious curiosity did they watch those huge brazen portals! 
Every precaution was taken for the accommodation of the 
public. The streets were lined with troops of extraordinary 
stature, whose nodding plumes prevented the multitude 
from catching a glimpse of anything that passed, and who 
cracked the sculls of the populace with their scimitars if 
they attempted in the slightest degree to break the line. 
Moreover, there were seats erected which any one might 
occupy at a reasonable rate; but the lord steward, who had 
the disposal of the tickets, purchased them all for himself, 
and then resold them to his fellow-subjects at an enormous 
price. 

At length the hinges of the gigantic portals gave an 


328 


THE INFEKNAL MAKKIAGE. 


ominous croak, and, amid the huzzas of men and the shrieks 
of women, the procession commenced. 

First came the infernal band. It consisted of five hun¬ 
dred performers, mounted on dilferent animals. IS’ever was 
such a melodious blast. Fifty trumpeters, mounted on 
zebras of all possible stripes and tints, and working away 
at huge ramshorns with their cheeks like pumpkins. Then 
there were bassoons mounted on bears, clarionets on came¬ 
lopards, oboes on unicorns, and troops of musicians on 
elephants, playing on real serpents, whose prismatic bodies 
indulged in the most exti’aordinary convolutions imaginable, 
and whose arrowy tongues glittered with superb agitation 
at the exquisite sounds which they unintentionally de¬ 
livered. Animals there were, too, now unknown and for¬ 
gotten ; but I must not forget the fellow who beat the 
kettledrums, mounted on an enormous mammoth, and the 
din of Avhose reverberating blows would have deadened the 
thunder of Olympus. 

This enchanting harmony preceded the regiment of 
Proserpine’s own guards, glowing in adamantine armour 
and mounted on coal-black steeds. Their helmets were 
quite awful, and surmounted by plumes plucked from the 
wings of the Harpies, which were alone enough to terrify 
,‘in earthly host. It was droll to observe this troop of 
gigantic heroes commanded by infants, who, however, were 
arrayed in a similar costume, though, of course, on a smaller 
scale. But such was the admirable discipline of the infernal 
forces, that, though lions to their enemies, they were lambs 
to their friends ; and on the present occasion their colonel 
was carried in a cradle. 

After these came twelve most worshijDful baboons, in 
most venerable wigs. They were clothed with scarlet robes 
lined with ermine, and ornamented with gold chains, and 
mounted on the most obstinate and indexible mules in 
Tartarus. These were the judges. Each was provided with 
a pannier of choice cobnuts, which he cracked with great 
gravity, throwing the shells to the multitude, an infernal 
ceremony, there held emblematic of their profession. 


THE INEEllNAL MAliKIAGE. 


329 


The Lord Chancellor came next in a grand car. Although 
his Avig was even longer than those of his fellow func¬ 
tionaries, his manners and the rest of his costume afforded 
a strange contrast to them. Apparently never was such a 
droll, lively fellow. His dress was something between that 
of Harlequin and Scaramouch. He amused himself by 
kee]3ing in the air four brazen balls at the same time^ 
swallowing daggers, spitting fire, turning sugar into salt, 
and eating yards of pink ribbon, which, after being well 
digested, re-appeared through his nose. It is unnecessary 
to add, after this, that he w^as the most popular Lord 
Chancellor that had ever held the seals, and was received 
with loud and enthusiastic cheers, which apparently repaid 
him for all his exertions. Notwithstanding his numerous 
and curious occupations, I should not omit to add that his 
Lordship, nevertheless, found time to lead by the nose a 
most meek and milk-white jackass that immediately fol¬ 
lowed him, and which, in spite of the remarkable length 
of its ears, seemed the object of great veneration. There 
was evidently some mystery about this animal difficult to 
penetrate. Among other characteristics, it was said, at 
different seasons, to be distinguished by different titles ; 
for sometimes it was styled ‘ The Public,’ at others 
‘ Opinion,’ and occasionally was saluted as the ‘ King’s 
Conscience.’ 

Now came a numerous company of Priests, in flowing 
and funereal robes, bearing banners, inscribed with the 
various titles of their Queen; on some was inscribed 
Hecate, on others Juno Inferna, on others Theogamia, 
Libera on some, on others Cotytto. Those that bore ban¬ 
ners were crowned with wreaths of narcissus, and mounted 
on bulls blacker than night, and of a severe and melancholy 
aspect. Others walked by their side, bearing branches of 
cypress. 

And here I must stop to notice a droll characteristic of 
the priestly economy of Hades. To be a good pedestrian 
was considered an essential virtue of an infernal clergy¬ 
man ; but to be mounted on a black bull was the highest dis- 


330 


THE INFERNAL ISIARRIAGE. 


tinction of the craft. It followed, therefore, that, originally, 
promotion to such a seat was the natural reward of any 
priest who had distinguished himself in the humbler career 
of a good walker; but in process of time, as even infernal 
as well as human institutions are alike liable to corruption, 
the black bulls became too often occupied by the halt and 
the crippled, the feeble and the paralytic, who used their 
influence at Court to become thus exempted from the per¬ 
formance of the severer duties of which they were inca¬ 
pable. This violation of the priestly constitution excited at 
first great murmurs among the abler but less influential 
brethren. But the murmurs of the weak prove only the 
tyranny of the strong ; and so completely in the course of 
time do institutions depart from their original character, 
that the imbecile riders of the black bulls now avowedly 
defended their position on the very grounds which originally 
should have unseated them, and openly maintained that it 
was very evident that the stout were intended to walk, and 
the feeble to bo carried. 

The priests were followed by fifty dark chariots, drawn 
by blue satyrs. Herein was the wardrobe of the Queen, 
and her Majesty’s cooks. 

Tiresias came next, in a basalt chariot, yoked to royal 
steeds. He was attended by Man to, who shared his confi¬ 
dence, and who, some said, was his daughter, and others 
his niece. Venerable seer ! ^Yho could behold that flow¬ 
ing beard, and the thin grey hairs of that lofty and 
wrinkled brow, without being filled with sensations of awe 
and affection ? A smile of bland benignity played upon 
his passionless and reverend countenance. Fortunate the 
monarch who is blessed with such a counsellor! Wlio 
could have supposed that all this time Tiresias was concoct¬ 
ing an epigram on Pluto ! 

The Queen ! The Queen ! 

Upon a superb throne, placed upon an immense car, and 
drawn by twelve coal-black steeds, four abreast, reposed 
the royal daughter of Ceres. Her rich dark hair was 
braided off her high pale forehead, and fell in voluptuous 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


331 


clusters over her back. A tiara sculptured out of a single 
brilliant, and which darted a flash like lightning on the 
surrounding multitude, was placed somewhat negligently on 
the right side of her head; but no jewels broke the en¬ 
trancing swell of her swan-like neck, or were dimmed by 
the lustre of her ravishing arms. How fair was the Queen 
of Plell! How thrilling the solemn lustre of her violet 
eye ! A robe, purple as the last hour of twilight, encom¬ 
passed her transcendent form, studded with golden stars ! 

VII. 

Through the dim hot streets of Tartarus moved the royal 
procession, until it reached the first winding of the river 
Styx. Hero an immense assemblage of yachts and barges, 
dressed out with the infernal colours, denoted the appointed 
spot of the royal embarkation. Tiresias dismounting from 
his chariot, and leaning on Manto, now approached her 
jMajesty, and requesting her royal commands, recommended 
her to lose no time in getting on board. 

‘When your Majesty is once on the Styx,’ observed the 
wily seer, ‘ it may be somewhat difficult to recall you to 
Hades ; but I know very little of Clotho, may it please 
your Majesty, if she have not already commenced her in¬ 
trigues in Tartarus.’ 

‘ You alarm me !’ said Proserpine. 

‘ It was not ray intention. Caution is not fear.’ 

‘ But do you think that Pluto-’ 

‘May it please your Majesty, I make it a rule never to 
think. I know too much.’ 

‘ Let us embark immediately !’ 

‘ Certainly; I would recommend your Majesty to get oil 
at once. Myself and Manto will accompany you, and the 
cooks. If an order arrive to stay our departui’e, we can 
then send back the priests.’ 

‘ You counsel well, Tiresias. I wish you had not been 
absent on my arrival. Affairs might have gone better.’ 

‘ Hot at all. Had I been in Hell, your enemies would 


332 


THE INEEHN^VL MAKIUAGE. 


have been more wary. Your Majesty’s excellent spirit 
carried you through triumphantly ; but it will not do so 
twice. You turned them out, and I must keep them out.’ 

‘ So be it, my dear friend.’ Thus saying, the Queen de¬ 
scended her throne, and leaving the rest of her retinue to 
follow with all possible despatch, embarked on board the 
infernal yacht, with Tiresias, Manto, the chief cook, and 
some chosen attendants, and bid adieu for the first time, not 
without agitation, to the gloomy banks of Tartarus. 


VIII. 

The breeze was favourable, and, animated by the exhor¬ 
tations of Tiresias, the crew exerted themselves to the 
utmost. The barque swiftly scudded over the dark waters. 
The river was of great breadth, and in this dim region the 
crew were soon out of sight of land. 

‘You have been in Elysium?’ inquired Proserpine of 
Tiresias. 

‘ I have been everywhere,’ replied the seer, ‘ and though 
I am blind have managed to see a great deal more than my 
fellows.’ 

‘ I have often heard of you,’ said the Queen, ‘ and I confess 
that yours is a career which has much interested me. What 
vicissitudes in affairs have you not witnessed ! And yet 
you have somehow or other contrived to make your way 
through all the storms in which others have sunk, and are 
now, as you always have been, in an exalted position. "W^hat 
can be your magic ? I would that you would initiate me. 
I know that you are a prophet, and that even the Gods con¬ 
sult you.’ 

‘ Your Majesty is complimentary. I certainly have had 
a great deal of experience. My life has no doubt been a 
long one, but I have made it longer by never losing a mo¬ 
ment. I was born, too, at a great crisis in affairs. Eveiy- 
thing that took.place before the Trojan war passes for 
nothing in the annals of wisdom. That was a great revolu¬ 
tion in all affairs human and divine, and from that event wo 
must now date all our knowledge. Before the Trojan war we 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


333 


used to talk of tlie rebellion of the Titans, but that business 
now is an old almanac. As for iny powers of prophecy, 
believe me, that those who understand the past are very well 
qualified to predict the future. For my success in life, it 
may be principally ascribed to the observance of a simple 
rule—I never trust anyone, either God or man. I make an 
exception in favour of the Goddesses, and especially of your 
Majesty,’ added Tiresias, who piqued himself on his gal¬ 
lantry. 

While they were thus conversing, the Queen directed the 
attention of Manto to a mountainous elevation which now 
began to rise in the distance, and which, from the rapidity 
of the tide and the freshness of the breeze, they approached 
at a swift rate. 

‘ Behold the Stygian mountains,’replied Manto. ‘ Through 
their centre runs the passage of ISTight which leads to the 
regions of Twilight.’ 

‘ We have, then, far to travel ?’ 

‘ Assuredly it is no easy task to escape from the gloom of 
Tartarus to the sunbeams of Elysium,’ remarked Tiresias ; 
‘ but the pleasant is generally difficult; let us be grateful 
that in our instance it is not, as usual, forbidden.’ 

‘ You say truly ; I am sorry to confess how very often it 
appears to me that sin is enjoyment. But see ! how awful 
are these perpendicular heights, piercing the descending- 
vapours, with their peaks clothed with dark pines! We 
seem land-locked.’ 

But the experienced master of the infernal yacht knew 
well how to steer his charge through the intricate windings 
of the river, which here, though deejo and navigable, be¬ 
came as wild and narrow as a mountain stream ; and, as 
the tide no longer served them, and the wind, from their 
involved course, was as often against tliem as in their fa¬ 
vour, the crew were obliged to have recourse to their oars, and 
rowed along until they arrived at the mouth of an enormous 
cavern, from which the rapid stream apparently issued. 

‘ I am frightened out of my wits,’ exclaimed Proserpine. 
‘Surely this cannot be our course ?’ 


334 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


% 

‘ I liold, from your Majesty’s exclamation,’ said Tiresiast 
‘ that we have arrived at the passage of IS’ight. When we 
have proceeded some hundred yards, we shall reach the 
adamantine portals. I pray your Majesty be not alarmed. 
I alone have the signet which can force these mystic gates 
to open. I must be stirring myself. What, ho ! Manto.’ 

‘ Here am I, father. Hast thou the seal ?’ 

‘ In my breast. I would not trust it to my secretaries. 
They have my portfolios full of secret despatches, written 
on purpose to deceive them ; for I know that they are spies 
in the pay of Minerva; but your Majesty perceives, with a 
little prudence, that even a traitor may be turned to ac. 
count.’ 

Thus saying, Tiresias, leaning on Manto, hobbled to the 
poop of the ’ vessel, and exclaiming aloud, ‘ Behold the 
mighty seal of Dis, whereon is inscribed the word the 
Titans fear,’ the gates immediately flew open, revealing the 
gigantic form of the Titan Porphyrion, whose head touched 
the vault of the mighty cavern, although he was up to his 
waist in the waters of the river. 

‘ Come, my noble Porphyrion,’ said Tiresias, ‘ bestir thy¬ 
self, I beseech thee. I have brought thee a Queen. Guide 
her Majesty, I entreat thee, with safety through this awful 
passage of Night.’ 

‘What a horrible creature,’ whispered Proserpine. ‘I 
wonder you address him with such courtesy.’ 

‘ I am always courteous,’ replied Tiresias. ‘ How know 
I that the Titans may not yet regain their lost heritage ? 
They are terrible fellows; and ugly or not, I have no doubt 
that even your Majesty would not find them so ill-favoured 
were they seated in the halls of Olympus.’ 

‘ There is something in that,’ replied Proserpine. ‘ I al¬ 
most ivish I were once more in Tartarus.’ 

The Titan Porph^Hon in the meantime had fastened a 
chain-cable to the vessel, which he placed over his shoulder, 
and turning his back to the crew, then wading through the 
waters, he dragged on the vessel in its course. The cavern 


THE INTERNAL IMARRIAGE. 


335 


Vv ideiied, the waters spread. To the joy of Proserpine, ap¬ 
parently, she once more beheld the moon and. stars. 

‘ Bright crescent of Diana! ’ exclaimed the enraptured 
Queen, ‘ and ye too, sweet stars, that I have so often watched 
on the Sicilian plains ; do I, then, indeed again behold you ? 
or is it only some exquisite vision that entrances my being ? 
for, indeed, I do not feel the freshness of that breeze that 
was wont to renovate my languid frame; nor does the odor¬ 
ous scent of flowers wafted from the shores delight my jaded 
senses. What is it ? Is it life or death; earth, indeed, or 
hell ? ’ 

‘ ’Tis nothing,’ said Tiresias, ‘ but a great toy. You must 
know that Saturn—until at length, wearied by his ruinous 
experiments, the Gods expelled him his empire—was a great 
dabbler in systems. He- was always for making moons 
brighter than Dian, and lighting the stars by gas ; but his 
systems never worked. The tides rebelled against their 
mistress, and the stars went out with a horrible stench. 
This is one of his creations, the most ingenious, though a 
failure. Jove made it a present to Pluto, who is quite proud 
of having a sun and stars of his own, and reckons it among 
the choice treasures of his kingdoms.’ 

‘ Poor Saturn ! I pity him ; he meant well.’ 

‘ Very true. He is the paviour of the high-street of 
Hades. But we cannot aflbrd kings, and especially Gods, 
to be philosophers. The certainty of misrule is better than 
the chance of good government; uncertainty makes people 
restless.’ 

‘ I feel very restless myself; I wish we were in Elysium! ’ 

‘ The river again narrows ! ’ exclaimed Manto. ‘ There 
is no other portal to pass. The Saturnian moon and stars 
grow fainter, there is a grey tint expanding in the distance; 
’tis the realm of Twilight; your Majesty will soon dis¬ 
embark.’ 


33G 


TIIK INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


PART III. 


Containing an account of Tiresias at his Riohler. 

Travellers wlio have left their homes generally grow 
mournful as the evening draws on ; nor is there, perhaps, 
any time at which the pensive influence of twilight is moro 
predominant than on the eve that follows a separation 
from those we love. Imagine, then, the feelings of tho 
Queen of Hell, as her barque entered the very region of 
that mystic light, and the shadowy shores of the realm of 
Twilight opened before her. Her thoughts reverted to 
Pluto; and she mused over all his fondness, all his adora¬ 
tion, and all his indulgence, and the infinite solicitude of his 
affectionate heart, until the tears trickled down her beau¬ 
tiful cheeks, and she marvelled she ever could have quitted 
the arms of her lover. 

‘Your Majesty,’ observed Manto, who had been whisper¬ 
ing to Tiresias, ‘ feels, perhaps, a little wearied ? ’ 

‘ By no means, my kind Manto,’ replied Proserpine, 
starting from her reverie. ‘ But the truth is, my spirits are 
unequal; and though I really cannot well fix upon the cause 
of their present depression, I am apparently not free from 
the contagion of the surrounding gloom.’ 

‘ It is the evening air,’ said Tiresias. ‘ Your Majesty 
had perhaps better re-enter the pavilion of the yacht. As 
for myself, I never venture about after sunset. One grows 
romantic. Night was evidently made for in-door nature. I 
propose a rubber.’ 

To this popular suggestion Proserpine was pleased to 
accede, and herself and Tiresias, Manto and the captain of 
the yacht, were soon engnged at the proposed amusement. 



THE INFERNAL MARRIAaE. 


337 


Tircsias loved a rubber. Ifc was true be was blind, but 
then, being a prophet, that did not signify. Tiresias, I say, 
loved a rubber, and was a firsfc-rate j)layer, though, perhaps, 
given a little too much to finesse. Indeed, he so much en¬ 
joyed taking in his fellow-creatures, that he sometimes 
could not resist deceiving his own partner. Whist is a 
game which requires no ordinary combination of qualities ; 
at the same time, memory and invention, a daring fancy, 
and a cool head. To a mind like that of Tiresias, a pack 
of cards was full of human nature. A rubber was a micro¬ 
cosm ; and he ruffed his adversary’s king, or brought in a 
long suit of his own with as much dexterity and as much 
enjoyment as, in the real business of existence, he dethroned 
a monarch, or introduced a dynasty. 

‘ Will your Majesty be. j)leased to draw your card ? ’ rc- 
([uested the sage. ‘ If I might venture to offer your Ma¬ 
jesty a hint, I would dare to recommend your Majesty not 
to play before your turn. My friends are fond of ascribing 
my success in my various missions to the possession of pe¬ 
culiar qualities. NTo such thing : I owe everything to the 
simple habit of always waiting till it is my turn to speak.' 
And believe me, that he who plays before his turn at whist, 
commits as great a blunder as he who speaks before his 
turn during a negotiation.’ 

‘ The trick, and two by honours,’ said Proserpine. ‘Pray, 
my dear Tiresias, you who are such a fine player, how came 
3 'ou to trump my best card ? ’ 

‘ Because I wanted the lead. And those who want to 
lead, please your Majesty, must never hesitate about sacri¬ 
ficing their friends.’ 

‘I believe you speak truly. I was right in playing that 
thirteenth card ? ’ 

‘ Quite so. Above all things. Hove a thirteenth card. I 
send it forth, like a mock project in a revolution, to try the 
strength of parties.’ 

‘ You should not have forced me. Lady Manto,’ said the 
Captain of the yacht, in a grumbling tone, to his partner. 

Z 


338 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


‘ By weakening me, you prevented me bringing in my 
spades. We might have made the game.’ 

‘You should not have been forced,’said Tiresias. ‘If 
she made a mistake, who was unacquainted with your 
plans, what a terrible blunder you committed to share her 
error witliout her ignorance ! ’ 

‘ What, then, was I to lose a trick ? ’ 

‘ Next to knowing when to seize an opportunity,’ replied 
Tiresias, ‘the most important thing in life is to know when 
to forego an advantage.’ 

‘ I have cut you an honour, sir,’ said Manto. 

‘ Which reminds me,’ replied Tiresias, ‘ that, in the last 
liand, your Majesty unfortunately forgot to lead through 
your adversary’s ace. I have often observed that nothing ever 
perplexes an adversary so much as an appeal to his lionour.’ 

‘I will not forget to follow your advice,’ said the Captain 
of the yacht, playing accordingly. 

‘ By which you have lost the game,’ quietly remarked 
Tiresias. ‘ There are exceptions to all rules, but it seldom 
answers to follow the advice of an opponent.’ 

Confusion ! ’ exclaimed the Captain of the yacht. 

‘ Four by honours, and the trick, I declare,’ said Proser¬ 
pine. ‘ 1 was so glad to see you turn up the queen, Tiresias.’ 

‘ I also. Madam. Without doubt there are few cards 
better than her royal consort, or, still more, the imperial 
ace. Nevertheless, I must confess, I am perfectly satisfied 
whenever I remember that I have the Queen on my side.’ 

Proserpine bowed. 


II. 

Containing aVisit from a liberal Queen to a dethroned Mo^iarch; 

and a Conversation between them respecting the ‘ Spirit of the 
■ ^ 0 ^' 

‘ I have a good mind to do it, Tiresias,’ .said Queen Proser¬ 
pine, as that worthy sage paid his compliments to her at 
her toilet, at an hour which should have been noon. 

‘ It would be a great compliment,’ said Tiresias. 

‘ And it is not much out of our way?’ 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 339 

‘ By no means/ replied the seer. ‘ ’Tis an agreeable 
half-way house. He lives in good style.’ 

‘ And whence can a dethroned monarch gain a revenue ?’ 
inquired the Queen. 

‘ Your Majesty, I see, is not at all learned in politics. A 
sovereign never knows what an easy income is till he has 
abdicated. He generally commences squabbling with his 
subjects about the supplies ; he is then expelled, and voted, 
as compensation, an amount about double the sum which 
was the cause of the original quarrel.’ 

‘What do you think, Manto?’ said Proserpine, as that 
lady entered the cabin ; ‘ we propose paying a visit to 
Saturn. He has fixed his residence, you know, in these 
regions of twilight.’ 

‘ I love a junket,’ replied Manto, ‘ above all things. And, 
indeed, I was half frightened out of my wits at the bare 
idea of toiling over this desert. All is prepared, please 
your Majesty, for our landing. Your Majesty’s litter is 
quite ready.’ 

‘’Tis well,’ said Proserpine; and leaning on the arm of 
Manto, the Queen came upon deck, and surveyed the sur¬ 
rounding country, a vast grey fiat, with a cloudless sky of 
the same tint: in the distance some lowering shadows, 
which seemed like clouds but were in fact mountains. 

' ‘ Some half-dozen hours,’ said Tiresias, ‘will bring us to 

the palace of Saturn. We shall arrive for dinner; the right 
hour. Let me recommend your Majesty to order the cur¬ 
tains of your litter to be drawn, and, if possible, to resume 
your dreams.’ 

‘ They were not pleasant,’ said Proserpine, ‘ I dreamt of 
my mother and the Parcse. Manto, methinks I’ll read. 
Hast thou some book?’ 

‘ Here is a poem. Madam, but I fear it may induce those 
very slumbers you dread.’ 

‘How call you it?’ 

‘ “ Tho Pleasures of Oblivion.” The poet apparently is 
fond of his subject.’ 

‘ And is, I have no doubt, equal to it. Hast any prose ? 


3i0 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


‘ An historical novel or so.’ 

‘ Oh! if jon mean those things as full of costume as ft 
fancy ball, and almost as devoid of sense, I’ll have none of 
tliem. Close the curtains; even visions of the Furies are 
preferable to these insipidities.’ 

The halt of the litter roused the Queen from her slumbers. 

‘ We have arrived,’said Manto, as she assisted in withdrawing 
the curtains. 

The train had halted before a vast propylon of rose- 
coloured granite. The gate was nearly two hundred feet in 
height, and the sides of the propylon, which rose like huge 
moles, were sculptured with colossal figures of a threatening- 
aspect. Passing through the propylon, the Queen of Hell 
and her attendants entered an avenue in length about three- 
quarters of a mile, formed of colossal figures of the same 
character and substance, alternately raising in their arras 
javelins or battle-axes, as if about to strike. At the end of 
this heroic avenue appeared the palace of Saturn. Ascending 
a hundred steps of black marble, you stood before a portico 
supported by twenty columns of the same material and 
shading a single portal of bronze. Apparently the palace 
formed an immense quadrangle; a vast tower rising from 
each corner, and springing from the centre a huge and 
hooded dome. A crowd of attendants, in grey and sad- 
coloured raiment, issued from the portal of the palace at the 
approach of Proserpine, who remarked with strange surprise 
their singular countenances and demeanour ; for rare in this 
silent assemblage was any visage resembling aught she had 
seen, human or divine. Some bore the heads of bats ; of 
owls and beetles others ; some fluttered moth-like wings, 
while the shoulders of other bipeds were surmounted, in 
spite of their human organisation, with the heads of rats 
and weasels, of marten-cats and of foxes. But they were 
all remarkably civil; and Proserpine, who was now used to 
wonders, did not shriek at all, and scarcely shuddered. 

The Queen of Hell was ushered through a superb hall, 
and down a splendid gallery, to a suite of apartments where 
ft body of damsels of a most distinguished appearance 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


341 


awaited Ler. Tlieir heads resembled those of the most 
eagerly-sought, highly-prized, and oftenest-stolen lap-dogs. 
Upon the shoulders of one was the visage of the smallest 
and most thorough-bred little Blenheim in the world. 
Upon her front was a white star, her nose was nearly flat, 
and her ears were tied under her chin, with the most jaunty 
air imaginable. She was an evident flirt; and a solemn 
prude of a spaniel, with a black and tan countenance, who 
seemed a sort of duenna, evidently watched her with no 
little distrust. The admirers of blonde beauties would, 
however, have fallen in love with a poodle, with the finest 
head of hair imaginable, and most voluptuous shoulders. 
This brilliant band began barking in the most insinuating 
tone on the appearance of the Queen ; and Man to, who was 
almost as dexterous a hnguist as Tiresias himself, informed 
her Majesty that these were the ladies of her bedchamber ; 
upon which Proserpine, who, it will be remembered, had no 
l^assion for dogs, ordered them immediately out of her 
room. 

‘ What a droll place! ’ exclaimed the Queen. ^ Do you 
know we are later than I imagined ? A hasty toilet to-day; 
I long to see Saturn. It is droll, lam hungry. My purple 
velvet, I think; it may be considered a compliment. No 
diamonds, only jet; a pearl or two, perhaps. Didst ever see 
the King ? They say he is gentlemanlike, though a bigot. 
No ! no rouge to-day; this paleness is quite apropos. Were 
I as radiant as usual, I should be taken for Aurora.’ 

So leaning on Manto, and preceded by the ladies of her 
bed-chamber, whom, notwithstanding their repulse, she 
found in due attendance in the antechamber, Proserpine 
again continued her progress down the gallery, until they 
stopped at a door, which opening, she was ushered into the 
grand circular saloon, crowned by the dome, whose exterior 
the Queen had already observed. The interior of this 
apartment was entirely of black and grey marble, with the 
exception of the dome itself, Avhich was of ebony, richly 
carved, and supported by more than a hundred columns. 
There depended from the centre of the arch a single chan- 


342 


THE INFERNAL IVLiRRIAGE. 


delier of frosted silver, which was itself as big as an ordi¬ 
nary chamber, but of the most elegant form, and delicate 
and fantastic workmanship. As the Queen entered the 
saloon, a personage of venerable appearance, dressed in a 
suit of black velvet, and leaning on an ivory cane, advanced 
to salute her. There was no mistaking this personage; his 
manners were at once so courteous and so dignified. He 
was clearly their host; and Proserpine, who was quite 
charmed with his grey locks and his black velvet cap, his 
truly paternal air, and the beneficence of his unstudied 
smile, could scarcely refrain from bending her knee, and 
pressing her lips to liis extended hand. 

‘ I am proud that your Majesty has remembered me in 
my retirement,’ said Saturn, as he led Proserpine to a seat. 

Their mutual compliments were soon disturbed by the 
announcement of dinner, and Saturn offering his arm to 
the Queen with an air of politeness which belonged to the 
old school, but which the ladies admire in old men, handed 
Proserpine to the banqueting-room. They were followed 
by some of the principal personages of her Majesty’s suite, 
and a couple of young Titans, who enjoyed the posts of 
Aides-de-Camp to the ex-King, and whose duties consisted 
of carving at dinner. 

It was a most agreeable dinner, and Proserpine was de¬ 
lighted with Saturn, who, of course, sat- by her side, and 
paid her every possible attention. Saturn, whose manners, 
as has been observed, were of the old school, loved a good 
story, and told several. His anecdotes, especially of society 
previous to the Trojan war, were highly interesting. There 
I’an through all his behaviour, too, a tone of high breeding 
and of consideration for others which was really charming; 
and Proserpine, who had expected to find in her host a 
gloomy bigot, was quite surprised at the truly liberal spirit 
with which he seemed to consider affairs in general. In¬ 
deed this unexpected tone made so great an impression 
upon her, that finding a good opportunity after dinner, 
when they were sipping their cofiee apart from the rest of 
the company, she could not refrain from entering into some 


THE INTERNAL 1NL4RRIAGE. 


343 


conversation with the ex-King upon the subject, and the 
conversation ran thus : 

‘ Do you know,’ said Proserpine, ‘ that much as I have 
been pleased and surprised during my visit to the realms 
of twilight, nothing has pleased, and I am sure nothing 
has surprised me more, than to observe the remarkably 
liberal spirit in which your Majesty views the affairs of 
the day.’ 

‘ You give me a title, beautiful Proserpine, to which I 
have no claim,’ replied Saturn. ‘ You forget that I am 
now only Count Hesperus ; I am no longer a king, and be¬ 
lieve me, I am very glad of it.’ 

‘ What a pity, my dear sir, that you would not condescend 
to confoiun to the Spirit of the age. For myself, I am quite 
a reformer.’ 

‘ So I have understood, beautiful Proseiq^ine, which I 
confess has a little surprised me; for to tell you the truth, 
I do not consider that reform is exactly our trade.’ 

‘ Affairs cannot go on as they used,’ observed Proserpine, 
oracularly; ‘ we must bow to the Spirit of the age.’ 

‘ And what is that ? ’ inquired Saturn. 

‘ I do not exactly know,’ replied ProserjDine, ‘but one hears 
of it everywhere.’ 

‘ I also heard of it a great deal,’ replied Saturn, ‘ and was 
also recommended to conform to it. Before doing so, how¬ 
ever, I thought it as well to ascertain its nature, and some¬ 
thing also of its strength.’ 

‘ It is terribly strong,’ observed Proserpine. 

‘ But you think it will be stronger ? ’ inquired the ex- 
King. 

‘ Certainly; every day it is more powerful.’ 

‘ Then if, on consideration, we were to deem resistance 
to it advisable, it is surely better to commence the contest 
at once than to postpone the straggle.’ 

‘ It is useless to talk of resisting; one must conform.’ 

‘ I certainly should consider resistance useless,’ replied 
Saturn, ‘ for I tried it and failed; but at least one has a 
chance of success; and yet, having resisted this spiiit and 


344 


THE INFERNAL ]\IARRIAC4E. 


failed, I sliould not consider myself in a worse plight than 
you Avould voluntarily place yourself in by conforming 
to it.’ 

‘ You speak riddles,’ said Proserpine. 

‘ To be plain, then,’ replied Saturn, ‘ I think you may as 
well at once give up your throne, as conform to this sj)irit.’ 

‘ And why so ?’ inquired Proserpine very ingenuously.’ 

‘ Because,’ replied Saturn, shrugging up his shoulders, 
‘ I look upon the Spirit of the age as a spirit hostile to 
Ivings and Gods.’ 


III. 

Containinrf the Titans; or a View of a subverted Faction. 

The next morning Saturn himself attended his beautiful 
guest over his residence, which Proserpine greatly admired. 

‘ ’Tis the work of the Titans,’ replied the ex-King. 
‘ ^’here never was a party so fond of building palaces.’ 

‘ To speak the truth,’ said Proserpine, ‘ I am a little dis¬ 
appointed that I have not had an opportunity, during my 
visit, of becoming acquainted with some of the chiefs of 
that celebrated party ; for, although a Liberal, I am a 
female one, and I like to know every sort of person who is 
distinguished.’ a 

‘ The fact is,’ replied her host, ‘ that the party has never 
recovered from the thunderbolt of that scheming knave 
Jupiter, and do not bear their defeat so philosophically as 
years, perhaps, permit me to do. If we have been van¬ 
quished by the Spirit of the age,’ continued Saturn, ‘ you 
must confess that, in our case, the conqueror did not assume 
a material form very remarkable for its dignity. Had 
Creation resolved itself into its original elements, had 
Chaos come again, or even old Coelus, the indignity might 
have been endured ; but to be baffled by an Olympian juste 
milieu, and to find, after all the clamour, that nothing has 
been changed save the places, is, you will own, somewhat 
mortifying.’ 

‘ But how do you reconcile,’ inquired the ingenuous Pro- 


TUE INFERNAL MAERIAaE. 


345 


serpine, ‘ tlie success of Jupiter Avitli tlie character wliicli 
you ascribed last nigiit to the Spirit of the age ? ’ 

‘Why, in truth,’ said Saturn, ‘had I not entirely freed 
myself from all party feeling, I might adduce the success 
of my perfidious and worthless relative as very good de¬ 
monstration that the Spirit of the age is nothing better 
than an ignis fatuus. Nevertheless, we must discriminate. 
Even the success of Jupiter, although he now conducts 
himself in direct opposition to the emancipating principles 
he at first professed, is no less good evidence of their force ; 
for by his professions he rose. And, for my part, I consider 
it a great homage to public opinion to find every scoundrel 
now-a-days professing himself a Liberal.’ 

‘ You are candid,’said Proserpine. ‘I should like very 
much to see the Titans,’ • 

‘My friends are at least consistent,’ observed Saturn; 
‘ though certainly at present I can say little more for them. 
Between the despair of one section of the party, and the 
over-sanguine expectations of the other, they are at present 
quite inactive, or move only to ensure fresh rebuffs,’ 

‘ You see little of them, then ? ’ 

‘ They keep to themselves : they generally frequent a 
lonely vale in the neighbourhood.’ 

‘ I should so like to see them ! ’ exclaimed Proserpine, 

‘ Say nothing to Tiresias,’ said old Saturn, who was half 
in love with his fair friend, ‘ and we will steal upon them 
unperceived.’ So saying, the God struck the earth with 
his cane, and there instantly sprang forth a convenient car, 
built of curiously carved cedar, and borne by four enormous 
tawny-coloured owls. Seating himself by the side of the 
delighted Proserpine, Saturn commanded the owls to bear 
them to the Valley of Lamentations. 

’Twas an easy fly: the chariot soon descended upon the 
crest of a hill: and Saturn and Proserpine, leaving the car, 
commenced, by a winding path, the slight ascent of a 
superior elevation. Having arrived there, they looked down 
upon a valley, apparently land-locked by black and barren 
mountains of the most strange, although picturesque forms. 


346 


THE INFEKNAL JVIAEKIAQE. 


In the centre of the valley was a black pool or tarn, bor¬ 
dered with dark purple flags of an immense size, twining 
and twisting among which might be observed the glancing 
and gliding folds of seveial white serpents ; while croco¬ 
diles and alligators, and other hornble forms, poked their 
foul snouts with evident delight in a vast mass of black 
slime, which had, at various times, exuded from the lake. 
A single tree only was to be observed in tliis desolate place, 
an enormous and blasted cedar, with scarcely a patch of 
verdure, but extending its black and barren branches nearly 
across the valley. Seated on a loosened crag, but leaning 
against the trunk of the cedar, with his arms folded, his 
mighty eyes fixed on the ground, and his legs crossed with 
that air of complete repose which indicates that their ovmer 
is in no hurry again to move them, was 

‘ A form, some granite god we deemed, 

Or king of palmy Nile, colossal shapes 
Such as Syene’s rosy quarries yield 
To Memphian art; Horus, Osiris called, 

Or Amenoph, who, on the Theban plain. 

With magic melody the sun salutes; 

Or he, far mightier, to whose conquering car 
Monarchs were yoked, Rameses: by the Greeks 
Sesostris styled. And yet no sculptor’s art 
Moulded this shape, for form it seemed of flesh, 

Yet motionless; its dim unlustrous orbs 

Gazing in stilly vacancy, its cheek 

Grey as its hairs, which, thin as they might seem, 

No breath disturbed; a solemn countenance, 

Not sorrowful, though full of woe sublime, 

As if despair were now a distant dream 
Too dim for memory.’ 

‘ ’Tis their great leader,’ said Saturn, as he pointed out 
the Titan to Proserpine, ‘ the giant Enceladus. He got us 
into all our scrapes, but I must do him the justice to add, 
that he is the only one who can ever get us out of them. 
They say he has no heart; but I think his hook nose is 
rather fine.’ 

‘ Superb ! ’ said Proserpine. ‘ And who is that radiant 
and golden-haired youth who is seated at his feet ? ’ 

‘ ’Tis no less a personage than Hyperion himself,’ replied 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


347 


Saturn, ‘ tlie favourite counsellor of Enceladus. He is a 
line orator, and makes up hj his round sentences and choice 
phrases for the rhetorical deficiencies of his chief, who, to 
speak the truth, is somewhat curt and husky. They have 
enough now to do to manage them comrades and keep a 
semblance of discipline in their routed ranks. Mark that 
ferocious Briareus there scowling in a corner ! Didst ever 
see such a moustache ! He glances, methinks, with an evil 
eye on the mighty Enceladus ; and, let me tell you, Briareus 
has a great following among them ; so they say of him you 
know, that he hath fifty heads and a hundred arms. See ! 
how they gather around him.’ 

‘ Wlio speaks now to Briareus ? ’ 

‘ The young and valiant Mimas. Be assured he is coun¬ 
selling war. We shall have a debate now.’ 

‘ Yon venerable personage, who is seated by the margin 
of the pool, and weeping with the crocodiles-’ 

‘ Is old Oceanus.’ 

‘ He is apparently much affected by his overthrow.’ 

‘ It is his wont to weep. He used to cry when he fought, 
and yet he was a powerful warrior.’ 

‘ Hark ! ’ said Proserpine. 

The awful voice of Briareus broke the silence. What a ter¬ 
rible personage was Briareus ! His -wild locks hung loose 
about his shoulders, and blended with his unshorn beard. 

* Titans ! ’ shouted the voice which made many a heart 
tremble, and the breathless Prosei’pine clasp the arm of 
Saturn. ‘ Titans! Is that spirit dead that once heaped 
Ossa upon Pehon ? Is it forgotten, even by ourselves, that 
a younger born revels in our heritage ? Are these forms 
that surround me, indeed, the shapes at whose dread sight 
the base Olympians fled to their fitting earth ? AYarriors, 
whose weapons were the rocks, whose firebrands were the 
burning woods, is the day forgotten wdien Jove himself 
turned craven, and skulked in Egypt ? At least my 
memory is keen enough to support my courage, and what¬ 
ever the dread Enceladus may counsel, my voice is still for 
war! ’ 



348 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


There ensued, after this liarangue of Briareus, a profound 
and thrilling silence, which was, however, broken in due 
time by the great leader of the Titans himself. 

‘ You mouth it well, Briareus,’ replied Enceladus calmly. 

‘ And if great words would re-seat us in Olympus, doubt¬ 
less, with your potent aid, we might succeed. It never 
should be forgotten, however, that had we combined at 
first, in the spirit now recommended, the Olympians would 
never have triumphed; and least of all our party should 
Briareus and his friends forget the reasons of our disunion.’ 

‘ I take thy sneer, Enceladus,’ said the young and chival- 
ric Mimas, ‘ and throw it in thy teeth. This learn, then, 
from Briareus and his friends, that if we were lukewarm in 
the hour of peril, the fault lies not to our account, but with 
those who had previously so conducted themselves, that, 
when the danger arrived, it was impossible for us to dis¬ 
tinguish between our friends and our foes. Enceladus ap¬ 
parently forgets that had the Olympians never been per¬ 
mitted to enter Heaven, it would have been unnecessary 
ever to have combined against their machinations.’ 

‘ Recrimination is useless,’ said a Titan, interposing. ‘ I 
was one of those who supported Enceladus in the admission 
of the Olympians above, and I regret it. But at the time, 
like others, I believed it to be the only mode of silencing 
the agitation of Jupiter.’ 

‘I separated from Enceladus on that question,’ said a 
huge Titan, lying his length on the ground and leaning one 
arm on a granite crag ; ‘ but I am willing to forget all our 
differences and support him with all my heart and strength 
in another effort to restore our glorious constitution.’ 

‘ Titans,’ said Enceladus, ‘ who is there among you who 
has found me a laggard in the day of battle ? When the 
Olympians, as Briareus thinks it necessary to remind you, 
fled, I was your leader. Remember, however, then, that 
there were no thunderbolts. As for myself, I candidly 
confess to you, that, since the invention of these weapons 
by Jove, I do not see how war can be carried on by us any 
longer with effect.” 


THE INFERNAL j\L4REIAGE. 


349 


‘ By the memory of old Coelus and these fast-flowing 
tears,’ murmured the venerable Oceanus, patting at the 
same time a crocodile on the back, ‘ I call you all to witness 
that I have no interest to deceive you. ISTevertheless, we 
should not forget that, in this affair of the thunderbolts, it 
is the universal opinion that there is a very considerable re¬ 
action. I have myself, only within these few days, received 
authentic information that several have fallen of late with¬ 
out any visible ill effects ; and I am credibly assured that, 
during the late storm in Thessaly, a thunderbolt was pre¬ 
cipitated into the centre of a vineyard, without affecting the 
flavour of a single grape.’ 

Here several of the Titans, who had gathered round 
FInceladus, shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders, 
and a long and desultory conversation ensued upon the 
copious and very controversial subject of Re-action. In 
the meantime Rhoetus, a young Titan, whispered to one of 
his companions, that for his part he was convinced that the 
only way to beat the Olympians was to turn them into ridi¬ 
cule ; and that he would accordingly commence at once 
with the pasquinade on the private life of Jupiter, and 
some peculiarly delicate criticisms on the characters of tho 
Goddesses. 


350 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


PART lY. 


I. 

Containing the first View of Elysium. 

The toilsome desert was at length passed, and the royal 
cavalcade ascended the last chasm of mountains that divided 
Elysium, or the Regions of Bliss, from the Realm of Twi¬ 
light. As she quitted those dim and dreary plains, the 
spirit of Proserpine grew lighter, and she indulged in silent 
but agreeable anticipations of the scene which she was now 
approaching. On reaching, however, the summit of the 
mountainous chain, and proceeding a short distance over 
the rugged table-land into which it now declined, her 
Majesty was rather alarmed at perceiving that her progress 
was impeded by a shower of flame that extended, on either 
side, as far as the eye could reach. Her alarm, however, 
was of short continuance; for, on the production of his 
talisman by Tiresias, the shower of flame instantly changed 
into silvery drops of rose-water and other delicious perfumes. 
Amid joyous peals of laughter, and some slight playful 
screams on the part of the ladies, the cavalcade ventured 
through the ordeal. How the effect of this magical bath 
was quite marvellous. A burthen seemed suddenly to have 
been removed from the spirits of the whole party; their 
very existence seemed renewed; the blood danced about 
their veins in the liveliest manner imaginable; and a wild 
but pleasing titillation ran like lightning through their 
nerves. Their countenances sparkled with excitement; and 
they all talked at the same time. Proserpine was so occu¬ 
pied with her own sensations, that she did not immediately 
remark the extraordinary change that had occurred in tho 



THE INFEENAL ]\L4EEIAGE. 


351 


appearance of the country immediately on passing this 
magical barrier. She perceived that their course now led 
over the most elastic and carefally-shaven turf; groups of 
beautiful shrubs occasionally appeared, and she discovered 
with delight that their flowers constantly opened, and sent 
forth from their bells diminutive birds of radiant plumage. 
Above them, too, the clouds vanished, and her head was 
canopied by a sky, unlike, indeed, all things and tints of 
earth, but which reminded her, in some degree, of the 
splendour of Olympus. 

Proserpine, restless with delight, quitted her litter, and 
followed by Man to, ran forward to catch the first view of 
Elysium. 

‘ I am quite out of breath,’ said her Majesty, ‘and really 
must sit down on this bank of violets. Was ever anything 
in the world so delightfal! Why, Olympus is nothing to 
it! And after Tartarus, too, and that poor unhappy Saturn, 
and his Titans and his twilight, it really is too much for 
me. How I do long for the view! and yet, somehow or 
other, my heart beats so I cannot walk.’ 

‘ Will your Majesty re-ascend your litter ? ’ suggested 
jManto. 

‘ Oh, no ! that is worse than anything. They are a mile 
behind ; they are so slow. "^Wiy, Manto ! what is this ? ’ 

A beautiful white dove hovered in the air over the head 
of Proserpine and her attendant, and then dropping an 
olive branch into the lap of the Queen, flapped its wings 
and whirled away. Put what an olive branch! the stem 
was of agate ; each leaf was an emerald; and on the largest, 
in letters of brilliants, was this inscription: 

Che ta tljciT* heauttfuT (laurcn. 

‘ Oh, is it not superb ? ’ exclaimed Proserpine. ‘ What 
charming people, and what excellent subjects! What loyalty 
and what taste ! ’ 

So saying, the enraptured Proserpine rose from the bank 
of violets, and had scarcely run forwards fifty yards when 
she suddenly stopped, and started with an exclamation of 


352 


THE INTERNAL MARRIAGE. 


'wonder. The table-land had ceased. She stood upon a pre¬ 
cipice of white marble, in inan}^ parts clothed with thick 
bowers of myrtle ; before her extended the Avide-sjmeading 
plains of Elysium. They were bounded upon all sides by 
gentle elevations entirely covered with flowers, and occa¬ 
sionally shooting forward into the champaign country; 
behind these appeared a range of mountains clothed with 
bright green forests, and still loftier heights behind them, 
exhibiting, indeed, only bare and sharply-pointed peaks 
glittering with prismatic light. The undulating plain was 
studded in all directions wntli pa,vilions and pleasure-houses, 
and groves and gardens glowing with the choicest and most 
charming fruit; and a broad blue river wound through it, 
covered with brilliant boats, the waters flashing with phos¬ 
phoric light as they were cut by the swift and gliding keels. 
And in the centre of the plain rose a city, a mighty group 
of all that was beautiful in form and costly in materials, 
bridges and palaces and triumphal gates of cedar and of mar¬ 
ble, columns and minarets of gold, and cupolas and domes of 
ivory ; and ever and anon appeared delicious gardens, raised 
on the terraces of the houses; and groups of palm trees 
with their tall, thin stems, and quivering and languid crests, 
rose amid the splendid masonry. A sweet soft breeze 
touched the cheek of the entranced ProseiqDine, and a single 
star of silver light glittered in the rosy sky. 

‘’Tis my favourite hour,’ exclaimed Proserpine. Thus 
have I gazed upon Hesperus in the meads of Enna ! What a 
scene! How fortunate that we should haA^e arrived at 
sunset! ’ 

‘ Ah, Madam! ’ observed Manto, ‘ in Elysium the sk^^ is 
ever thus. For the Elysians, the sun seems ahvays to liaA’e 
just set! ’ 

‘ Fortunate people ! ’ replied Proserpine. ‘ In them, im¬ 
mortality and enjoyment seem indeed blended together. A 
strange feeling, half of languor, half of voluptuousness, 
steals OAhr my senses! It seems that I at length behold 
the region of my girlish dreams. Such once I fancied 
Olympus. Ah ! why docs not my Pluto live in Elysium ?’ 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


353 


II. 

Containing some account of the Manners of the JElysians, and 
of the Palace of Proseiyme, and her strange Dream. 

The Eljsians consisted of a few thousand beatified mortals, 
the only occupation of whose existence was enjo^^ment; the 
rest of the population comprised some millions of Gnomes 
and Sylphs, who did nothing but work, and ensured by their 
labour the felicity of the superior class. Every Elysian, 
male or female, possessed a magnificent palace in the city, 
and an elegant pavilion on the plain; these, with a due 
proportion of chariots, horses, and slaves, constituted a 
proper establishment. The Sylphs and the Gnomes were 
either scattered about the country, which they cultivated, 
or lived in the city, where they kept shops, and where they 
emulated each other in displaying the most ingenious articles 
of luxury and convenience for the enjoyment and accommoda¬ 
tion of the Elysians. The townspeople, indeed, rather affected 
to look down upon the more simple-minded agriculturists ; 
but if these occasionally felt a little mortification in conse¬ 
quence, they might have been consoled, had they been aware 
that their brethren and sisters who were in the service of 
the Elysians avenged their insults, for these latter were the 
finest Gnomes and Sylphs imaginable, and scarcely deigned 
to notice any one Avho was in trade. Whether there were 
any coin or other circulating medium current in Elysium is 
a point respecting which I must confess I have not sufficient 
information to decide; but if so, it certainly would appear 
that all money transactions were confined to the Gnomes 
and the Sylphs, for the Elysians certainly never paid fot 
anything. Perhaps this exemption might have been among 
their peculiar privileges, and was a substitute for what we 
call credit, a convenience of which the ancients appear to 
have had a limited conception. The invention, by Jupiter, 
of an aristocratic immortality, as a reward for a well-spent 
life on earth, appears to have been an ingenious idea. It 
really is a reward, very stimulative of good conduct before 

A A 


854 


THE INEEENAL MAKRIAG-E. 


we shuffle off the mortal coil, and remarkably contrasts 
with the democracy of the damned. The Elysians, with a 
splendid climate, a teeming soil, and a nation made on 
purpose to wait upon them, of course enjoyed themselves 
very much. The arts flourished, the theatres paid, and 
they had a much flner opera than at Ephesus or at Hali¬ 
carnassus. Their cookery was so refined, that one of the 
least sentimental ceremonies in the world was not only de¬ 
prived of all its grossness, but was actually converted into 
an elegant amusement, and so famous that their artists were 
even required at Olympus. If their dinners were admirable, 
which is rare, their assemblies were amusing, which is still 
more uncommon. All the arts of society were carried to 
perfection in Elysium; a dull thing was never said, and an 
awkward thing never done. The Elysians, indeed, being 
highly refined and gifted, for they comprised in their order 
the very cream of terrestrial society, were naturally a liberal- 
minded race of nobles, and capable of appreciating every 
kind of excellence. If a Gnome or a Sylph, therefore, in 
any way distinguished themselves; if they sang very well, 
or acted very well, or if they were at all eminent for any of 
the other arts of amusement, ay! indeed if the poor devils 
could do nothing better than write a poem or a novel, they 
were sure to be noticed by the Elysians, who always bowed 
to them as they passed by, and sometimes indeed even ad¬ 
mitted them into their circles. 

Scarcely had the train of Proserpine rejoined her on the 
brink of the precipice, than they heard the flourish of 
trumpets near at hand, soon followed by a complete har¬ 
mony of many instruments. A chorus of sweet voices was 
next distinguished, growing each instant more loud and 
clear ; and in a few minutes, issuing from a neighbouring 
grove, came forth a band of heroes and beautiful women, 
dressed in dazzling raiment, to greet the Queen. A troop 
of chariots of light and airy workmanship followed, and a 
crowd of Gnomes and Sylphs singing and playing on va¬ 
rious instruments, and dancing with gestures of grace and 
delicacy. Congratulating the Queen on her arrival in Ely- 


THE INFEENAL MAERIAGE. 


355 


sium, and requesting the honour of being permitted to 
attend her to her palace, they ushered Proserpine and her 
companions to the chariots, and soon, winding dowm a 
gradual declivity, they entered the plain. 

If a bird’s-eye view of the capital had enchanted Pro¬ 
serpine, the agreeable impression was not diminished, as is 
generally the case, by her entrance into the city. Never 
were so much splendour and neatness before combined. 
Passing through a magnificent arch, Proserpine entered a 
street of vast and beautiful proportions, lined on each side 
with palaces of various architecture, painted admirably in 
fresco, and richly gilt. The road was formed of pounded 
marbles of various colours, laid down in fanciful patterns, 
and forming an unrivalled mosaic; it was bounded on each 
side by a broad causeway of jasper, of a remarkably bright 
green, clouded with milk-white streaks. This street led to 
a sumptuous square, forming alone the palace destined for 
Proserpine. Its several fronts were supported and adorned 
by ten thousand columns, imitating the palm and the lotus ; 
nor is it possible to conceive anything more light and 
graceful than the general effect of this stupendous building. 
Each front was crowned with an immense dome of ala¬ 
baster, so transparent, that when the palace was illumi¬ 
nated the rosy heaven grew pale, and an effect similar to 
moonlight was diffused over the canopy of Elysium. And 
in the centre of the square a Leviathan, carved in white 
coral, and apparently flouncing in a huge basin of rock 
crystal, spouted forth from his gills a fountain twelve hun¬ 
dred feet in height; from one gill ascended a stream of 
delicious wane, which might be tempered, if necessary, by 
the iced water that issued from the other. 

At the approach of the Queen, the gigantic gates of the 
palace, framed of carved cedar, flew open with a thrilling 
burst of music, and Proserpine found herself in a hall 
wherein several hundred persons, who formed her house¬ 
hold, knelt in stillness before her. Wearied with her long 
journey, and all the excitement of the day, Proserpine 
signified to one of the Elysians in attendance her desire for 


356 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


refreshment and repose. Immediately the household rose, 
and gracefully bowing retired in silence, while four ladies 
of the bed-chamber, very different from the dogfaced dam¬ 
sels of the realm of Twilight, advanced with a gracious 
smile, and each j)ressing a white hand to her heart, invited 
her Majesty to accompany them. Twelve beautiful pages 
in fanciful costume, and each bearing a torch of cinnamon, 
preceded them, and Proserpine ascended a staircase of tur¬ 
quoise and silver. As she passed along, she caught glimpses 
of costly galleries, and suites of gorgeous chambers, but 
she was almost too fatigued to distinguish anything. A 
confused vision of long lines of white columns, roofs of 
carved cedar, or ceilings glowing with forms of exquisite 
beauty, walls covered with lifelike tapestry, or reflecting 
in their mighty muTors her own hurrying figure, and her 
picturesque attendants, alone remained. She rejoiced when 
she at length arrived in a small chamber, in which prepa¬ 
rations evidently denoted that it was intended she should 
rest. It was a pretty little saloon, brilliantly illuminated, 
and hung with tapestry depicting a party of nymphs and 
shepherds feasting in an Arcadian scene. In the middle of 
the chamber a banquet was prepared, and as Proserpine 
seated herself, and partook of some of the delicacies which 
a page immediately presented to her, there arose, from in¬ 
visible musicians, a joyous and festive strain, Avhich accom¬ 
panied her throughout her repast. When her Alajesty had 
sufficiently refreshed herself, and as the banquet was re¬ 
moving, the music assumed a softer and more subduing, 
occasionally even a solemn tone; the tapestry, slowly 
shifting, at length represented the same characters sunk in 
repose; the attendants all this time gradually extinguishing 
the lights, and stealing on tiptoe from the chamber. So 
that, at last, the music, each moment growing fainter, en¬ 
tirely ceased; the figures on the tapestry were scarcely per¬ 
ceptible by the dim lustre of a single remaining lamp ; and 
the slumbering Proserpine fell back upon her couch. 

But the Queen of Hell was not destined to undisturbed 
repose. A dream descended on her brain, and the dream 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


357 


Avas terrible and strange. She beheld herself a child, 
playing, as Avas her wont, in the gardens of Enna, twining 
garlands of roses, and chasing butterflies. Suddenly, from 
a bosky thicket of myrtle, slowly issued forth an immense 
serpent, dark as night, but with eyes of the most brilliant 
tint, and approached the daughter of Ceres. The innocent 
child, ignorant of cauI, beheld the monster without alarm. 
Not only did she neither fly nor shriek, but she CA^en wel¬ 
comed and caressed the frightful stranger, patted its Amlu- 
niinous back, and admired its sparkling Ausion. The ser¬ 
pent, fascinated instead of fascinating, licked her feet Avitli 
his arrowy tongue, and glided about for her diversion in a 
thousand shapes. Emboldened by its gentleness, the little 
Proserpine at length even mounted on its back, and rode in 
triumph among her bowers. Every day the dark serpent 
issued from the thicket, and every day he found a welcome 
playmate. Now it came to pass that one day the serpent, 
growing more bold, induced the young Proserpine to extend 
her ride beyond the limits of Enna. Night came on, and 
as it Avas too late to return, the serpent carried her to a 
large cave, Avhere it made for her a couch of leaves, and 
Avhile she slept the affectionate monster kept guard for her 
protection at the mouth of the cavern. For some reason 
or other which Avas not apparent, for in dreams there are 
ahvays some effects Avithout causes, Proserpine never re¬ 
turned to Enna, but remained and resided Avith cheerfulness 
in this caA^ern. Each morning the ser23ent Avent forth 
alone to seek food for its charge, and regularly returned 
Avith a bough in its mouth laden Avith delicious fruits. One 
day, during the absence of her guardian, a desire seized 
Proserpine to quit the cavern, and accordingly she Avent 
forth. The fresh air and fragrance of the earth Avere de¬ 
lightful to her, and she roamed about, unconscious of time, 
and thoughtless of her return. And as she sauntered 
along, singing to herself, a beautiful Avhite dove, even the 
same dove that had Avelcomed her in the morning on the 
heights of Elysium, flew before her with its Avings glancing 
in the sunshine. It seemed that the bird Avished to attract 


358 


THE INFEENAL MAEKIAGE. 


the attention of the child, so long and so closely did it 
hover about her; now resting on a branch, as if inviting 
capture, and then skimming away only to return more 
swiftly; and occasionally, when for a moment unnoticed, 
even slightly flapping the rambler with its plume. At 
length the child was taken with a fancy to catch the bird. 
But no sooner had she evinced this desire, than the bird, 
once apparently so anxious to be noticed, seemed resolved 
to lead her a weary chace; and hours flew away ere Pro¬ 
serpine, panting and exhausted, had captured the beautiful 
rover and pressed it to her bosom. 

It was, indeed, a most beautiful bird, and its possession 
repaid her for all her exertions. But lo ! as she stood, in 
a wild sylvan scene caressing it, smoothing its soft plu¬ 
mage, and pressing its head to her cheek, she beheld in the 
distance approaching her the serpent, and she beheld her 
old friend with alarm. Apparently her misgiving was not 
without cause. She observed in an instant that the ap¬ 
pearance and demeanour of the serpent were greatly 
changed. It approached her swift as an arrow, its body 
rolling in the most agitated contortions, its jaws were 
distended as if to devour her, its eyes flashed fire, its 
tongue was a forked flame, and its hiss was like a stormy 
wind. Proserpine shrieked, and the Queen of Hell awoke 
from her dream. 


III. 

Containing some accoimt of the wonderful Morality of the Ehj~ 
sians. Of Helen and Dido. General Society and Coteries. 
Characters of Achilles, Amjphion, Patroclus and Memnon. 
The next morning the Elysian world called to pay their 
respects to Proserpine. Her Majesty, indeed, held a 
drawing-room, which was fully and brilliantly attended. 
Her beauty and her graciousness were universally pro¬ 
nounced enchanting. From this moment the career of 
Proserpine was a series of magnificent entertainments. 
The principal Elysians vied with each other in the splen- 
doui* and variety of the amusements, which they ofiered to 


THE INEEENAL MAHRIAHE. 


359 


the notice of their Queen. Operas, plays, balls, and ban¬ 
quets followed in dazzling succession. Proserpine, who 
was almost inexperienced in society, was quite fascinated. 
She regretted the years she had wasted in her Sicilian so¬ 
litude ; she marvelled that she ever could have looked 
forward with delight to a dull annual visit to Olympus; 
she almost regretted that, for the sake of an establishment, 
she could have been induced to cast her lot in the regal 
gloom of Tartarus. Elysium exactly suited her. The 
beauty of the climate and the country, the total absence of 
care, the constant presence of amusement, the luxury, 
gaiety, and refined enjoyment perfectly accorded with her 
amiable disposition, her lively fancy and her joyous temper. 
She drank deep and eagerly of the cup of pleasure. She 
entered into all the gay pursuits of her subjects; she even 
invented new combinations of diversion. Under her in¬ 
spiring rule every one confessed that Elysium became every 
day more Elysian. 

The manners of her companions greatly pleased her. 
She loved those faces always wreathed with smiles, yet 
never bursting into laughter. She was charmed at the 
amiable tone in which they addressed each other. ISTever 
apparently were people at the same time so agreeable, so 
obliging, and so polished. Eor in all they said and did 
might be detected that peculiar air of high-breeding which 
pervades the whole conduct of existence with a certain in¬ 
definable spirit of calmness, so that your nerves are never 
shaken by too intense an emotion, which eventually pro¬ 
duces a painful reaction. Whatever they did, the Elysians 
were carefiil never to be vehement; a grand passion, 
indeed, was unknown in these happy regions ; love as¬ 
sumed the milder form of flirtation; and as for enmity, you 
were never abused except behind your back, or it exuded 
itself in an epigram, or, at the worst, a caricature scribbled 
upon a fan. 

There is one characteristic of the Elysians which, iui 
justice to them, I ought not to have omitted. They were 
eminently a moral people. If a lady committed herself, 


360 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


she was lost for ever, and packed off immediately to tlio 
realm of Twilight. Indeed, they were so particular, that 
the moment one of the softer sex gave the sliglitest symp¬ 
toms of preference to a fortunate admirer, the Elysian 
world immediately began to look unutterable things, shimg 
its moral shoulders, and elevate its charitable eye-brows. 
But if the preference, by any unlucky chance, assumed the 
nobler aspect of devotion, and the unhappy fair one gave 
any indication of really possessing a heart, rest assured she 
was already half way on the road to perdition. Then com¬ 
menced one of the most curious processes imaginable, pe¬ 
culiar I apprehend to Elysium, but which I record that the 
society of less fortunate lands may avail itself of the ad¬ 
vantage, and adopt the regulation in its moral police. Im¬ 
mediately that it was clearly ascertained that two persons 
of different sexes took an irrational interest in each other's 
society, all the world instantly went about, actuated by a 
purely charitable sentiment, telling the most extraordinary 
falsehoods concerning them that they could devise. Thus 
it was the fashion to call at one house and announce that 
you had detected the unhappy pair in a private box at the 
theatre, and immediately to pay your respects at another 
mansion and declare that you had observed them on the 
very same day, and at the very same hour, in a boat on the 
river. At the next visit, the gentleman had been disco¬ 
vered driving her in his cab; and in the course of the morn¬ 
ing the scene of indiscretion was the Park, where they 
had been watched walking by moonlight, muffled up iu 
sables and cashmeres. 

This curious process of diffusing information was known 
in Elysium under the title of ‘ heinrj talhed about ; ’ and 
although the stories thus disseminated were universally 
understood to be fictions, the Elysians ascribed great virtue 
to the proceeding, maintaining that many an indiscreet fair 
one had been providentially alarmed by thus becoming the 
subject of universal conversation ; that thus many a repu¬ 
tation had been saved by this charitable slander. There 
were some malignant philosophers, indeed, doubtless from 


THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE. 


361 


that silly love of paradox in all ages too prevalent, who 
pretended that all this Elysian morality was one great 
delusion, and that this scrupulous anxiety about the con¬ 
duct of others arose from a principle, not of Purity, but 
of Corruption, The woman who is ‘ talked about,’ these 
sages would affirm, is generally virtuous, and she is only 
abused because she devotes to one the charms which all 
wish to enjoy. 

Thus Dido, who is really one of the finest creatures that 
ever existed, and who with a majestic beauty combines an 
heroic soul, has made her way with difficulty to the Elysian 
circle, to which her charms and rank entitle her; while 
Helen, who, from her very dehut, has been surrounded by 
fifty lovers, and whose intrigues have ever been notorious, 
is the very queen of fashion ; and all this merely because 
she has favoured fifty instead of one, and in the midst of 
all her scrapes has contrived to retain the countenance of 
her husband. 

Apropos of Dido, the Queen of Carthage was the person 
in all Elysium for whom Proserpine took the greatest 
liking. Exceedingly beautiful, with the most generous 
temper and the softest heart in the world, and blessed by 
nature 'with a graceful simplicity of manner, which fashion 
had never sullied, it really was impossible to gaze upon the 
extraordinary brilliancy of her radiant countenance, to watch 
the symmetry of her superb figm^e, and to listen to the 
artless yet lively observations uttered by a voice musical as 
a bell, without being fairly bewitched. 

When we first enter society, we are everywhere; yet 
there are few, I imagine, who, after a season, do not sub¬ 
side into a coterie. When the glare of saloons has ceased 
to dazzle, and we are wearied with the heartless notice of a 
crowd, we require refinement and sympathy. We find 
them, and we sink into a clique. And after all, can the 
river of life flow on more agreeably than in a sweet course 
of pleasure with those we love ? To wander in the green 
shade of secret woods and whisper our affection; to float 
on the sunny waters of some gentle stream, and listen to a 


362 


THE INFERNAL I^IARRIAGF^ 


serenade; to canter 'vvitli a ligRt-liearted cavalcade over 
breezy downs, or cool our panting chargers in the summer 
stillness of winding and woody lanes; to banquet with the 
beautiful and the witty ; to send care to the devil, and in¬ 
dulge the whim of the moment; the priest, the warrior, 
and the statesman may frown and struggle as they like; 
but this is existence, and this, this is Elysium! 

So Proserpine deemed when, wearied with .the monotony 
of the great world, she sought refuge in the society of Dido 
and Atalanta, Achilles, Amphion, and Patroclus or Mem- 
non. When ^neas found that Dido had become fashion¬ 
able, he made overtures for a reconciliation, but Dido 
treated him with calm contempt. The pious .^neas, 
indeed, was the aversion of Proserpine. He was the head 
of the Elysian saints, was president of a society to induce 
the Gnomes only to drink water, and was so horrified at 
the general conduct of the Elysians, that he questioned the 
decrees of Minos and Rhadamanthus, who had permitted 
them to enter the happy region so easily. The pious 
.^neas was of opinon that everybody ought to have been 
damned except himself. Proserpine gave him no encourage¬ 
ment. Achilles was the finest gentleman in Elysium. 
No one dressed or rode like him. He was very handsome, 
very witty, very unaffected, and had an excellent heart. 
Achilles was the leader of the Elysian youth, who were 
indeed devoted to him: Proserpine took care, therefore, 
that he should dangle in her train. Amphion had a 
charming voice for a supper after the opera. He was a 
handsome little fellow, but not to be depended upon. He 
broke a heart, or a dinner engagement, with the same reck¬ 
less sentimentality; for he was one of those who always weep 
when they betray you, and whom you are sure never to see 
again immediately that they have vowed eternal friendship. 
Patroclus was a copy of Achilles without his talents and 
vivacity, but elegant and quiet. Of all these, Memnon was 
perhaps the favourite of Proserpine; nor must he be for¬ 
gotten ; amiable, gay, brilliant, the child of whim and im¬ 
pulse, in love with every woman he met for four-and-twenty 
hours, and always marvelling at his own delusion! 


« 


POPANILLA 


t 


APVEKTISEMENT. 


This narrative of an imaginary voyage was first published 
in 1827. 


POPANILLA. 


CHAPTER I. 

There is an island in the Indian Ocean, so unfortunate as 
not yet to have been visited either by Discovery Ships or 
Missionary Societies, It is a place where all those things 
are constantly found which men most desire to see, and 
with the sight of which they are seldom favoured. It 
abounds in flowers, and fruit, and sunshine. Lofty moun¬ 
tains, covered with green and mighty forests, except where 
the red rocks catch the fierce beams of the blazing sun,- 
bowery valleys, broad lakes, gigantic trees, and gushing 
rivers bursting from rocky gorges, are crowned with a 
purple and ever cloudless sky. Summer, in its most unc¬ 
tuous state and most mellow majesty, is here perpetual. 
So intense and overpowering, in the daytime, is the rich 
union of heat and perfume, that living animal or creature 
is never visible; and were you and I to pluck, before sunset, 
the huge fruit from yonder teeming tree, we might fancy 
ourselves for the moment the future sinners of another 
Eden. Yet a solitude it is not. 

The island is surrounded by a calm and blue lagoon, 
formed by a ridge of coral rocks, which break the swell of 
the ocean, and prevent the noxious spray from banishing 
the rich shrubs which grow even to the water’s edge. It 
is a few minutes before sunset, that the first intimation of 
animal existence in this seeming solitude is given, b}^ the 
appearance of mermaids; who, floating on the rosy sea, 
congregate about these rocks. They sound a loud but 


366 


POPANILLA. 


melodious chorus from their sea-shells, and a faint and distant 
chorus soon answers from the island. The mermaidens 
immediately repeat their salutations, and are greeted with 
a nearer and a louder answer. As the red and rayless sun 
drops into the glowing waters, the choruses simultaneously 
join ; and rushing from the woods, and down the mountain 
steeps to the nearest shore, crowds of human beings, at the 
same moment, appear and collect. 

The inhabitants of this island, in form and face, do not 
misbecome the clime and the country. With the vivacity 
of a Faun, the men combine the strength of a Hercules and 
the beauty of an Adonis; and, as their more interesting 
companions flash upon his presence, the least classical of 
poets might be excused for imagining that, like their 
blessed Goddess, the women had magically sprung from the 
biilliant foam of that ocean which is gradually subsiding 
before them. 

But sunset in this land is not the signal merely for the 
evidence of human existence. At the moment that the 
Islanders, crowned with flowers,-and waving goblets and 
garlands, burst from their retreats, upon each mountain 
peak a lion starts forward, stretches his proud tail, and, 
bellowing to the sun, scours back exulting to his forest; 
immense bodies, which before would have been mistaken 
for the trunks of trees, now move into life, and serpents, 
untwining their green and glittering folds, and slowly 
bending their crested heads around, seem proudly conscious 
of a voluptuous existence; troops of monkeys leap from 
tree to tree; panthers start forward, and alarmed, not 
alarming, instantly vanish ; a herd of milk-white elephants 
tramples over the back-ground of the scene ; and instead 
of gloomy owls and noxious beetles, to hail the long-endur¬ 
ing twilight, from the bell of every opening flower beautiful 
birds, radiant with every rainbow tint, rush with a long 
and living melody into the cool air. 

The twilight in this island is not that transient moment 
of unearthly bliss, which, in our less favoured regions, 
always leaves us so thoughtful and so sad; on the contrary. 


POPANILLA. 


367 


it lasts many hoiirs, and consequently the Islanders are 
neither moody nor sorrowful. As they sleep during the 
four or five hours of ‘ tipsy dance and revelry ’ are 
exercise and not fatigue. At length, even in this delightful 
region, the rosy tint fades into purple, and the purple into 
blue ; the white moon gleams, and at length glitters ; and 
the invisible stars first creep into light, and then blaze into 
radiancy. But no hateful dews discolour their loveliness ! 
and so clear is the air, that instead of the false appearance 
of a studded vault, the celestial bodies may be seen floating 
in aether, at various distances and of various tints. Ere 
the showery fire-flies have ceased to shine, and the blue 
lights to play about the tremulous horizon, amid the 
voices of a thousand birds, the dancers solace themselves 
with the rarest fruits, the' most delicate fish, and the most 
dehcious wines; but flesh they love not. They are an 
innocent and a happy, though a voluptuous and ignorant 
race. They have no manufactures, no commerce, no agri¬ 
culture, and no printing-presses ; but for their slight cloth¬ 
ing they wear the bright skins of serpents ; for corn, 
Nature gives them the bread-fruit; and for intellectual 
amusement, they have a pregnant fancy and a ready wit; tell 
inexhaustible stories, and always laugh at each other’s 
jokes. A natural instinct gave them the art of making 
wine; and it was the same benevolent Nature that blessed 
them also with the knowledge of the art of making love. 
But time flies even here. The lovely companions have 
danced, and sung, and banqueted, and laughed; what 
further bliss remains for man ? They rise, and in pairs 
wander about the island, and then to their bowers; their 
life ends with the Night they love so well; and ere Day, the 
everlasting conqueror, wave his flaming standard in the 
luminous East, solitude and silence will again reign in the 
Isle of Eantaisie. 



368 


POPANILLA. 


CHAPTER II. 

The last and loudest chorus had died away, and the 
Islanders were pouring forth their libation to their great 
enemy the Sun, when suddenly a vast obscurity spread 
over the glowing West. They looked at each other, and 
turned pale, and the wine from their trembling goblets 
fell useless on the shore. The women w^ere too frightened 
to scream, and, for the first time in the Isle of Fantaisie, 
silence existed after sunset. They were encouraged when 
they observed that the darkness ceased at that point in 
the heavens which overlooked their coral rocks ; and per¬ 
ceiving that their hitherto unsullied sky was pure, even 
at this moment of otherwise universal gloom, the men 
regained their colour, touched the goblets with their lips, 
further to reanimate themselves, and the women, now less 
discomposed, uttered loud shrieks. 

Suddenly the wind roared with unaccustomed rage, tbe 
sea rose into large billows, and a ship was seen tossing in 
the offing. The Islanders, whose experience of navigation 
extended only to a slight paddling in their lagoon, in the 
half of a hollow trunk of a tree, for the purpose of fishing, 
mistook the tight little frigate for a great fish ; and being 
now aware of the cause of this disturbance, and at tho 
same time feeling confident that tho monster could never 
make way through the shallow waters to the island, they 
recovered their courage, and gazed upon the labouring 
leviathan with the same interested nonchalance with 
which students at a modern lecture observe an expounding 
philosopher, 

‘ What a shadow he casts over the sky ! ’ said the King, 
a young man, whose divine right was never questioned 
by his female subjects. ‘ What a commotion in the waters, 
and what a wind he snorts forth! It certainly must be 
the largest fish that exists. I remember my father telling 
me that a monstrous fish once got entangled among our 
rocks, and this part of tbe island really smelt for a month; 


POPANILLA. 369 

I cannot help fancying that there is a rather odd smell 
now ; pah ! ’ 

A favourite Queen flew to the suffering monarch, and 
pressing her aromatic lips upon his offended nostrils, his 
Majesty recovered. 

The unhappy crew of the frigate, who, with the aid of 
their telescopes, had detected the crowds upon the shore, 
now fired their signal guns of distress, which came sullenly 
booming through the wind. 

‘ Oh ! the great fish is speaking ! ’ was the universal 
exclamation. 

‘ I begin to get frightened,’ said the favourite Queen. 
‘ I am sure the monster is coming here ! ’ So saying, 
her Majesty grasped up a handful of pearls from the shore, 
to defend herself. 

As screaming was now the fashion, all the women of 
course screamed; and animated by the example of their 
sovereign, and armed with the marine gems, the Amazons 
assumed an imposing attitude. 

Just at the moment that they had worked up their en¬ 
thusiasm to the highest pitch, and were actually desirous 
of dying for their country, the ship sunk. 


CHAPTER III. 

It is the flush of noon; and, strange to say, a human 
figure is seen wandering on the shore of the Isle of Fan- 
taisie. 

‘ One of the crew of the wrecked frigate, of course ? 
What an escape! Fortunate creature ! interesting man ! 
Probably the indefatigable Captain Parry; possibly tho 
undaunted Captain Franklin; perhaps the adventurous 
Captain Lyon ! ’ 

Ho ! sweet blue-eyed girl! my plots are not of that 
extremely guessable nature so admired by your adorable 
sex. Indeed, this book is so constructed that if you were 
even, according to custom, to commence its perusal by 



370 


POPANILLA. 


reading the last page, yon would not gain the slightest 
assistance in finding out ‘ how the story ends.’ 

The wanderer belongs to no frigate-building nation. He 
is a true Fantaisian ; who having, in his fright, during 
yesterday’s storm, lost the lock of hair which, in a moment 
of glorious favour, he had ravished from his fair mistress’s 
brow, is now, after a sleepless night, tracing every remem¬ 
bered haunt of yesterday, with the fond hope of regaining 
his most precious treasure. Te Gentlemen of England, 
who live at home at ease, know full well the anxiety and 
exertion, the days of management, and the nights of medi¬ 
tation which the rape of a lock requires, and you can con¬ 
sequently sympathize with the agitated feelings of the 
handsome and the hapless Popanilla. 

The favourite of all the women, the envy of all the men, 
Popanilla passed a pleasant life. No one was a better judge 
of wine, no one had a better taste for fruit, no one 
danced with more elegant vivacity, and no one whispered 
compliments in a more meaning tone. Has stories ever 
had a point, his repartees were never ill-natured. What a 
pity that such an amiable fellow should have got into such 
a scrape! 

In spite of his grief, however, Popanilla soon found that 
the ardency of his passion evaporated under a smoking sun ; 
and, exhausted, he was about to return home from his 
fruitless search, when his attention was attracted by a sin¬ 
gular appearance. He observed before him, on the shore, 
a square and hitherto unseen form. He watched it for 
some minutes, but it was motionless. He drew nearer, 
and observed it with intense attention; but, if it were a 
being, it certainly was fast asleep. He approached close to 
its side, but it neither moved nor breathed. He applied 
his nose to the mysterious body, and the elegant Fantaisian 
drew back immediately from a most villanous smell of 
pitch. Not to excite too much, in this calm age, the reader’s 
curiosity, let him know at once that this strange substance 
was a sea-chest. Upon it was marked, in large black loi¬ 
ters, S. D. K. No. 1. . . 


POPANILLA. 


371 


For the first time in his life Popanilla experienced a 
feeling of overwhelming curiosity. His fatigue, his loss, 
the scorching hour, and the possible danger were all for¬ 
gotten in an indefinite feeling that the body possessed 
contents more interesting than its unpromising exterior, 
and in a resolute determination that the development of 
the mystery should be reserved only for himself. 

Although he felt assured that he must be unseen, he 
could not refrain from throwing a rapid glance of anxiety 
around him. It was a moment of perfect stillness : the 
island slept in sunshine, and even the waves had ceased to 
break over the opposing rocks. A thousand strange and 
singular thoughts rushed into his mind, but his first pur¬ 
pose was ever uppermost; and at length, unfolding his 
girdle of skin, he tied the tough cincture round the chest, 
and, exerting all his powers, dragged his mysterious waif 
into the nearest wood. 

But during this operation the top fell off, and revealed 
the neatest collection of little packages that ever pleased 
the eye of the admirer of spruce arrangement. Popanilla 
took up packets upon all possible subjects ; smelt them, 
but they were not savory; he was sorely puzzled. At 
last, he lighted on a slender volume bound in brown calf, 
which, with the confined but sensual notions of a savage, 
he mistook for gingerbread, at least. It was ‘ The Uni¬ 
versal Linguist, by Mr. Hamilton; or, the Art of Dreaming 
in Languages.’ 

JSTo sooner had Popanilla passed that well-foianed nose, 
which had been so often admired by the lady whose lock 
of hair he had unfortunately lost, a few times over a few 
pages of the Hamiltonian System than he sank upon his 
bed of flowers, and, in spite of his curiosity, was instantly 
overcome by a profound slumber. But his slumber, though 
deep, was not peaceful, and he was the actor in an agitating 
drama. 

Ho found himself alone in a gay and glorious garden. 
In the centre of it grew a pomegranate tree of prodigious 
eizo; its top was lost in the sky, and its innumerable 
B B 2 


372 


POPANILLA. 


branches sprang out in all directions, covered with largo 
fruit of a rich golden hue. Beautiful birds were perched 
upon all parts of the tree, and chanted with perpetual 
melody the beauties of their bower. Tempted by the de¬ 
licious sight, Popanilla stretched forward his ready hand to 
pluck; but no sooner had he grasped the fruit than the 
music immediately ceased, the birds rushed away, the 
sky darkened, the tree fell under the wind, the garden va¬ 
nished, and Popanilla found himself in the midst of a 
raging sea, buffeting the waves. 

He would certainly have been drowned had he not been 
immediately swallowed up by the huge monster which had 
not only been the occasion of the storm of yesterday, but, 
ah ! most unhappy business ! been the occasion also of his 
losing that lock of hair. 

Ere he could congratulate himself on his escape he found 
fresh cause for anxiety, for he perceived that he was no 
longer alone. No friends were near him ; but, on the con¬ 
trary, he was surrounded by strangers of a far different 
aspect. They were men certainly ; that is to say, they had 
legs and arms, and heads, and bodies as himself; but instead 
of that bloom of youth, that regularity of feature, that 
amiable joyousness of countenance, which he had ever been 
accustomed to meet and to love in his former companions, 
he recoiled in hoiTor from the swarthy complexions, the sad 
visages, and the haggard features of his present ones. 
They spoke to him in a harsh and guttural accent. He 
would have fled from their advances; but then he was in 
the belly of a whale ! When he had become a little used 
to their tones he was gratified by finding that their atten¬ 
tions were far from hostile ; and, after having received from 
them a few complnnents, he began to think that they were 
not quite so ugly. He discovered that the object of their 
inquiries was the fatal pomegranate which still remained in 
his hand. They admired its beauty, and told him that they 
greatly esteemed an individual who possessed such a mass 
of precious ore. Popanilla begged to undeceive them, and 
coui’teously presented the fruit. No sooner, however, had 


POPANILLA. 


373 


he parted with this apple of discord, tlian the countenances 
of his companions changed. Immediately discovering its 
real nature, they loudly accused Popanilla of having deceived 
them ; he remonstrated, and they recriminated; and the 
great fish, irritated by their clamour, lashed its huge tail, 
and with one efi&cacious vomit spouted the innocent Popa¬ 
nilla high in the air. He fell with such a dash into the 
waves that he was awakened by the sound of his own 
fall. 

The dreamer awoke amidst real chattering, and scuffling’, 
and clamour. A troop of green monkeys had been aroused 
by his unusual occupation, and had taken the opportunity 
of his slumber to become acquainted with some of the first 
principles of science. What progress they had made it is 
difficult to ascertain ; because, each one throwing a tract at 
Popanilla’s head, they immediately disappeared. It is said, 
however, that some monkeys have been since seen skipping 
about the island, with their tails cut off*; and that they 
have even succeeded in passing themselves ofiP for human 
beings among those people who do not read novels, and are 
consequently unacquainted with mankind. 

The morning’s adventure immediately rushed into Popa- 
nilla’s mind, and he proceeded forthwith to examine the 
contents of his chest; but with advantages which had not 
been yet enjoyed by those who had previously peeped into 
it. The monkeys had not been composed to sleep by the 
‘ Universal Linguist ’ of Mr. Hamilton. As for Popanilla, 
he took up a treatise on hydrostatics, and read it straight 
through on the spot. For the rest of the day he was hy¬ 
drostatically mad; nor could the commonest incident con¬ 
nected with the action or conveyance of water take place 
without his speculating on its cause and consequence. 

So enraptured was Popanilla with his new accomplish¬ 
ments and acquirements that by degrees he avoided attend¬ 
ance on the usual evening assemblages, and devoted him¬ 
self solely to the acquirement of useful knowledge. After 
a short time his absence was remarked; but the greatest 
and the most gifted has only to leave his coterie, called the 


374 


POPANILLA. 


world, for a few days, to be fully convinced of what sligb+ 
importance he really is. And so Popanilla, the delight o^ 
society and the especial favourite of the women, was in a 
very short time not even inquired after. At first, of course, 
they supposed that he was in love, or that he had a slight 
cold, or that he was writing his memoirs ; and as these 
suppositions, in due course, take their place in the annals 
of society as circumstantial histories, in about a week one 
knew the lady, another had heard him sneeze, and a third 
had seen the manuscript. At the end of another week 
Popanilla was forgotten. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Six months had elapsed since the first chest of the cargo 
of Useful Einowledge destined for the fortunate Maldives 
had been digested by the recluse Popanilla; for a recluse 
he had now become. Great students are rather dull com¬ 
panions. Our Fantaisian friend, during his first studies, 
was as moody, absent, and querulous as are most men of 
genius during that mystical period of life. He was conse¬ 
quently avoided by the men and quizzed by the women, 
and consoled himself for the neglect of the first and the 
taunts of the second by the indefinite sensation that he 
should, some day or other, turn out that little being called 
a great man. As for his mistress, she considered herself 
insulted by being addressed by a man who had lost her 
lock of hair. When the chest was exhausted Popanilla 
was seized with a profound melancholy. Nothing depresses 
a man’s spirits more completely than a self-conviction of 
self-conceit; and Popanilla, who had been accustomed to 
consider himself and his companions as the most elegant 
portion of the visible creation, now discovered, with dis¬ 
may, that he and his fellow-islanders were nothing more 
than a horde of useless savages. 

This mortification, however, was soon succeeded by a 
proud consciousness that he, at any rate, was now civilised j 



POPANILLA. 


375 


and that proud consciousness by a fond hope that in a short 
time he might become a civiliser. Like all projectors, he 
was not of a sanguine temperament; but he did trust that 
in the course of another season the Isle of Fantaisie might 
take its station among the nations. He was determined, 
however, not to be too rapid. It cannot be expected that 
ancient prejudices can in a moment be eradicated, and new 
modes of conduct instantaneously substituted and estab¬ 
lished. Popanilla, like a wise man, determined to conciliate. 
His views were to be as liberal, as his principles were en¬ 
lightened. Men should be forced to do nothing. Bigotry, 
and intolerance, and persecution were the objects of his 
decided disapprobation; resembling, in this particular, all 
the great and good men who have ever existed, who have 
invariably maintained this opinion so long as they have 
been in the minority. 

Popanilla appeared once more in the world. 

‘ Dear me ! is that you. Pop ? ’ exclaimed the ladies. 
* What have you been doing with yourself all this time ? 
Travelling, I suppose. Every one travels now. Really you 
travelled men get quite bores. And where did you get that 
coat, if it be a coat ? ’ 

Such was the style in which the Fantaisian females 
saluted the long absent Popanilla; and really, when a man 
shuts himself up from the world for a considerable time, 
and fancies that in condescending to re-enter it he has 
surely the right to expect the homage due to a superior 
being, these salutations are awkward. The ladies of Eng¬ 
land peculiarly excel in tliis species of annihilation ; and 
while they continue to drown puppies, as they daily do, in 
a sea of sarcasm, I think no true Englishman will hesitate 
one moment in giving them the preference for tact and 
manner over all the vivacious French, all the self-possessing 
Italian, and all the tolerant German women. This is a clap¬ 
trap, and I have no doubt will sell the book. 

Popanilla, however, had not re-entered society with the 
intention of subsiding into a nonentity; and he therefore 
took the opportunity, a few minutes after sunset, just as 


376 


POPANILLA. 


his companions were falling into the dance, to beg the 
favour of being allowed to address his sovereign only for 
one single moment. 

‘ Sire! ’ said he, in that mild tone of subdued supercilious¬ 
ness with which we should always address kings, and which, 
while it vindicates our dignity, satisfactorily proves that we 
are above the vulgar passion of envy, ‘ Sire ! ’ but let us not 
encourage that fatal faculty of oratory so dangerous to free 
states, and therefore let us give only the ‘ substance of Po- 
panilla’s speech.’* He commenced his address in a man¬ 
ner somewhat resembling the initial observations of those 
pleasing pamphlets which are the fashion of the present 
hour; and which, being intended to diffuse information 
among those who have not enjoyed the opportunity and ad¬ 
vantages of study, and are consequently of a gay and 
cheerful disposition, treat of light subjects in a light and 
polished style. Popanilla, therefore, spoke of man in a 
savage state, the origin of society, and the elements of the 
social compact, in sentences which would not have disgraced 
the mellifluous pen of Bentham. From these he naturally 
digressed into an agreeable disquisition on the Anglo- 
Saxons ; and, after a little badinage on the Bill of Rights, 
flew ofi* to an airy ajperqu of the French Revolution. When 
he had arrived at the Isle of Fantaisie he begged to inform 
his Majesty that man was born for something else besides 
enjoying himself. It was, doubtless, extremely pleasant to 
dance and sing, to crown themselves with chaplets, and to 
drink wine; but he was ‘ free to confess’ that he did not 
imagine that the most barefaced hireling of corruption 
could for a moment presume to maintain that there was any 
utility in j)leasure. If there were no utility in pleasure, it 
was quite clear that pleasure could profit no one. If, there¬ 
fore, it were unprofitable, it w^as injurious ; because that 
which does not produce a profit is equivalent to a loss ; 

* Substance of a S2mc7i, in Parliamentary language, means a printed 
edition of an harangue which contains all that was uttered in the House, 
and about as much again. 


POPANILLA. 


377 


therefore pleasure is a losing business; consequently plea¬ 
sure is not pleasant. 

He also showed that man was not horn for himself, hut 
for society ; that the interests of the body are alone to he 
considered, and not those of the individual; and that a 
nation might be extremely happy, extremely powerful, and 
extremely rich, although every individual member of it 
might at the same time be miserable, dependent, and in 
debt. He regretted to observe that no one in the island 
seemed in the slightest degree conscious of the object of his 
being. Man is created for a purpose; the object of his ex¬ 
istence is to perfect himself. Man is imperfect by nature, 
because if nature had made him perfect he would have had 
no wants ; and it is only by supplying his wants that utility 
can be developed. The development of utility is therefore 
the object of our being, and the attainment of this great 
end the cause of our existence. This principle clears all 
doubts, and rationally accounts for a state of existence 
which has puzzled many pseudo-philosophers. 

Popanilla then went on to show that the hitherto received 
definitions of man were all erroneous; that man is neither 
a walking animal, nor a talking animal, nor a cooking 
animal, nor a lounging animal, nor a debt-incurring animal, 
nor a tax-paying animal, nor a printing animal, nor a puf¬ 
fing animal, but a develojying animal. Development is the 
discovery of utility. By developing the water we get fish; 
by developing the earth we get corn, and cash, and cotton ; 
by developing the air we get breath; by developing the 
fire we get heat. Thus, the use of the elements is demon¬ 
strated to the meanest capacity. But it was not merely a 
material development to which he alluded; a moral deve¬ 
lopment was equally indispensable. He showed that it was 
impossible for a nation either to think too much or to do 
too much. The life of man was therefore to be passed in a 
moral and material development until he had consummated 
his perfection. It was the opinion of Popanilla that this 
great result was by no means so near at hand as some phi¬ 
losophers flattered themselves; and that it might possibly 


378 


POPANILLA. 


require another half-century before even the most civilised 
nation could be said to have completed the destiny of the 
human race. At the same time, he intimated that there 
were various extraordinary means by which this rather 
desirable result might be facilitated; and there was no 
saying what the building of a new University might do, 
of which, when built, he had no objection to be appointed 
Principal. 

In answer to those who affect to admire that deficient 
system of existence which they style simplicity of manners, 
and who are perpetually committing the blunder of sup¬ 
posing that every advance towards perfection only with¬ 
draws man further from his primitive and proper condition, 
Poj^anilla triumphantly demonstrated that no such order 
as that which they associated with the phrase ‘ state of 
nature ’ ever existed. ‘ Man,’ said he, ‘ is called the master¬ 
piece of nature ; and man is also, as we all know, the most 
curious of machines; now, a machine is a work of art, con¬ 
sequently, the masterpiece of nature is the masterpiece of 
art. The object of all mechanism is the attainment of 
utility ; the object of man, who is the most perfect m-achine, 
is utility in the highest degree. Can we believe, therefore, 
that this machine was ever intended for a state which never 
could have called forth its powers, a state in which no 
utility could ever have been attained, a state in wliich there 
are no wants ; consequentljq no demand ; consequently, no 
supply; consequently, no competition; consequently, no 
invention ; consequently, no profits ; only one great perni¬ 
cious monopoly of comfort and ease ? Society without 
wants is like a world without winds. It is quite clear, 
therefore, that there is no such thing as Nature; Nature is 
Ai't, or Art is Nature; that which is most useful is most 
natural, because utility is the test of nature ; therefore a 
steam-engine is in fact a much more natural production than 
a mountain.* 

* The ago seems as anti-mountainous as it is anti-monarchical. A 
late -writer insinuates that if the English had spent their millions in 
levelling the Andes, instead of excavating the table-lands, society might 


POPANILLA. 


379 


‘You are convinced, therefore,’ he continued, ‘by these ob¬ 
servations, that it is impossible for an individual or a nation 
to be too artificial in their manners, their ideas, their laws, 
or their general policy ; because, in fact, the more artificial 
you become the nearer you approach that state of nature 
of which you are so perpetually talking.’ Here observing 
that some of his audience appeared to be a little sceptical, 
perhaps only surprised, he told them that what he 
said must be true, because it entirely consisted of first 
principles.* 

After having thus preliminarily descanted for about two 
hours, Popanilla informed his Majesty that he was unused 
to public speaking, and then proceeded to show that the 
grand characteristic of the social action f of the Isle of 
Fantaisie was a total want of development. This he 
observed with equal sorrow and surprise; he respected the 
wisdom of their ancestors; at the same time, no one could 
deny that they were both barbarous and ignorant; he 
highly esteemed also the constitution, but regretted that it 
was not in the slightest degree adapted to the existing 
want of society : he was not for destroying any estabhsh- 
ments, but, on the contrary, was for courteously affording 
them the opportunity of self-dissolution. He finished by 
re-urging, in strong terms, the immediate development of 
the island. In the first place, a great metropolis must be 
instantly built, because a great metropolis always produces 
a great demand; and, moreover, Popanilla had some legal 
doubts whether a country without a capital could in fact 
be considered a State. Apologising for having so long 

have been benefited. These monstrosities are decidedly useless, and 
therefore can neither be sublime nor beautiful, as has been unanswer¬ 
ably demonstrated by another recent writer on political aesthetics.—See 
also a personal attack on Mont Blanc, in the second number of the 
Foreign Quarterly Eeview, 1828. 

* First principles are the ingredients of positive truth. They are 
immutable, as may be seen by comparing the first principles of the 
eighteenth century with the first principles of the nineteenth. 

t This simple and definite phrase we derive from the nation to whom 
we were indebted during the last century for some other phrases about 
as definite, but rather more dangerous. 


380 


POPANILLA. 


tres 2 :)assed upon tlie attention of the assembly, he begged 
distinctly to state'* that he had no wish to see his Majesty 
and his fellow-subjects adopt these new principles without 
examination and without experience. They might com¬ 
mence on a small scale; let them cut down their forests, and 
by turning them into ships and houses discover the uti¬ 
lity of timber ; let the whole island be dug up ; let canals 
be cut, docks be built, and all the elephants be killed 
directly, that their teeth might yield an immediate article 
for exportation. A short time would afford a sufficient 
trial. In the meanwhile, they would not be pledged to 
further measures, and these might be considered ‘ only as 
an experiment.’t Taking for granted that these prin¬ 
ciples would be acted on, and taking into consideration the 
site of the island in the map of the world, the nature and 
extent of its resources, its magnificent race of human 
beings, its varieties of the animal creation, its wonderfully 
fine timber, its undeveloped mineral treasures, the spacious¬ 
ness ol‘ its harbours, and its various facilities for extended 
international communication, Popanilla had no hesitation 
in saying that a short time could not elapse ere, instead of 
passing their lives in a state of unprofitable ease and useless 
enjoyment, they might reasonably expect to be the terror 
and astonishment of the universe, and to be able to annoy 
every nation of any consequence. 

Here, observing a smile upon his Majesty’s countenance, 
Popanilla told the King that he was only a chief magistrate, 
and he had no more right to laugh at him than a parish 
constable. He concluded by observing that although what 
he at present urged might appear strange, nevertheless, if 
the listeners had been acquainted with the characters and 
cases of Galileo and Turgot, they would then have seen, as 


* Another phrase of Parliament, which, I need not observe, is always 
made use of in oratory when the orator can see his meaning about as 
distinctly as Sancho perceived the charms of Dulcinea. 

t A very famous and convenient phrase this—but in politics ex'gcrU 
ments mQSLW revolutions, 1828. 


POPANILLA. 


381 


a necessary consequence, that his system was perfectly 
correct, and he himself a man of extraordinary merit. 

Here the chief magistrate, no longer daring to smile, 
burst into a fit of laughter; and turning to his courtiers 
said, ‘ I have not an idea what this man is talking about, 
but I know that he makes my head ache: give me a cup of 
wine, and let us have a dance.’ 

All applauded the royal proposition; and pushing Po- 
panilla from one to another, until he was fairly hustled to 
the brink of the lagoon, they soon forgot the existence of 
this bore : in one word, he was cut. When Popanilla found 
himself standing alone, and looking grave while all the 
rest were gay, he began to suspect that he was not so in¬ 
fluential a personage as he previously imagined. Rather 
crest-fallen, he sneaked home; and consoled himself for 
having nobody to speak to by reading some amusing ‘ Con¬ 
versations on Political Economy.’ 


CHAPTER y. 

PoPAXiLLA was discomposed, but he was not discomfited. 
He consoled himself for the Royal neglect by the recollec¬ 
tion of the many illustrious men who had been despised, 
banished, imprisoned, and burnt for the maintenance of 
opinions which, centuries afterwards, had been discovered 
to be truth. He did not forget that in still further cen¬ 
turies the lately recognised truth had been re-discovered to 
be falsehood ; but then these men were not less illustrious ; 
and what wonder that their opinions were really erroneous, 
since they were not his present ones ? The reasoning was 
equally conclusive and consolatory. Popanilla, therefore, 
was not discouraged; and although he deemed it more 
prudent not to go out of his way to seek another audience 
of his sovereign, or to be too anxious again to address a 
public meeting, he nevertheless determined to proceed cau¬ 
tiously, but constantly, propagating his doctrines and 
proselytizing in private. 



382 


POPANILLA. 


Unfortunately for Popanilla, lie did not enjoy one advan¬ 
tage which all founders of sects have duly appreciated, and 
by which they have been materially assisted. It is a great 
and an unanswerable argument in favour of a Providence 
that we constantly perceive that the most beneficial results 
are brought about by the least worthy and most insigni¬ 
ficant agents. The purest religions would never have been 
established had they not been supported by sinners who 
felt the burthen of the old faith; and the most free and 
enhghtened governments are often generated by the dis¬ 
contented, the disappointed, and the dissolute. Now, in 
the Isle of Fantaisie, unfortunately for our revolutionizer, 
there was not a single grumbler. 

Unable, therefore, to make the bad passions of his fellow- 
creatures the unconscious instruments of his good purposes, 
Popanilla must have been contented to have monopolised 
all the wisdom of the moderns, had he not, with the un¬ 
baffled wit of an inventor, hit upon a new expedient. Like 
Socrates, our philosopher began to cultivate ■with sedulous¬ 
ness the society of youth. 

In a short time the ladies of Fantaisie were forced to 
observe that the fair sex most unfashionably predominated 
hi their evening assemblages; for the young gentlemen of 
the island had suddenly ceased to pay their graceful homage 
at the altar of Terpsichore. In an Indian isle not to dance 
was as bad as heresy. The ladies rallied the recreants, but 
their playful sarcasms failed of their wonted effect. In the 
natural course of things they had recourse to remon¬ 
strances, but their appeals were equally fruitless. The 
delicate creatures tried reproaches, but the boyish cynics 
received them with a scowl and answered them with a 
sneer. 

The women fled in indignation to their friendly monarch; 
but the voluptuary of nature only shrugged his shoulders 
and smiled. He kissed away their tears, and their frowns 
vanished as he cro-wned their long ham with roses. 

‘ If the lads really show such bad taste,’ said his Majesty, 
‘ why I and my lords must do double duty, and dance with 


popanilla; 


383 


a couple of you at once.’ Consoled and complimented, and 
crowned by a King, wlio could look sad ? The women 
forgot their anger in their increasing loyalty. 

But the pupils of Popanilla had no sooner mastered the 
first principles of science than they began to throw off 
their retired habits and uncommunicative manners. Being 
not utterly ignorant of some of the rudiments of knowledge, 
and consequently having completed their education, it was 
now their duty, as members of society, to instruct and not 
to study. They therefore courted, instead of shunned, 
their fellow-creatures ; and on all occasions seized all oppor¬ 
tunities of assisting the spread of knowledge. The voices 
of lecturing boys resounded in every part of the island. 
Their tones were so shrill, their manners so presuming, 
their knowledge so cnide, and their general demeanour so 
completely unamiable, that it w'as impossible to hear them 
without delight, advantage, and admiration. 

The women were not now the only sufferers and the only 
complainants. Dinned to death, the men looked gloomy; 
and even the King, for the first time in his life, looked 
grave. Could this Babel, he thought, be that empire of 
bliss, that dehghtful Pantaisie, where to be ruler only 
proved that you were the most skilful in making others 
happy ! His brow ached under his fight flowery crown, as 
if it were bound by the barbarous circle of a tyrant, heavy 
with gems and gold. In his despair he had some thoughts 
of leaving his kingdom and betaking himself to the 
mermaids. 

The determination of the most precious portion of his 
subjects saved his empire. As the disciples of the new 
school were daily demanding, ‘ What is the use of dancing ? 
what is the use of drinking wine? what is the use of 
smelling flowers ? ’ the women, like prescient politicians, 
began to entertain a nervous suspicion that in time these 
sages might even presume to question the utility of that 
homage which, in spite of the Grecian Philosophers and 
the British Essayists, we have been in the habit of con¬ 
ceding to them ever since Eden; and they laished again 


384 


POPANILLA. 


to the King like frigliteiied deer. Something now was 
to be done; and the monarch, with an expression of coun¬ 
tenance which almost amounted to energy, whispered con¬ 
solation. 

The King sent for Popanilla; the message produced a 
great sensation; the enlightened introducer of the new 
principles had not been at Court since he was cut. Ko 
doubt his Majesty was at last impregnated with the liberal 
spirit of the age; and Popanilla was assuredly to be Pre¬ 
mier. In fact, it must be so ; he was ‘ sent forthere 
was no precedent in Fantaisie, though there might be in 
other islands, for a person being ‘ sent for ’ and not being 
Premier. His disciples were in high spirits ; the world 
was now to be regulated upon right principles, and they 
were to be installed into their right places. 

‘ Illustrious Popanilla! ’ said the King, ‘ you once did 
me the honour of making me a speech which, unfortu¬ 
nately for myself, I candidly confess, I was then incapable 
of understanding; no wonder, as it was the first I ever 
heard. I shall not, however, easily forget the effect which 
it produced upon me. I have since considered it my duty, 
as a monarch, to pay particular attention to your sugges¬ 
tions. I now understand them with sufficient clearness to 
be fully convinced of their excellence, and in future I in¬ 
tend to act upon them, without any exception or deviation. 
To prove my sincerity, I have determined to commence the 
new system at once ; and as I think that, without some 
extension of our international relations, the commercial 
interest of this island will be incapable of furnishing the 
taxes which I intend to levy, I have determined, therefore, 
to fit out an expedition for the pur^Dose of discovering new 
islands and forming relations with new islanders. It is 
but due to your merit that you should be appointed to the 
command of it; and further to testify my infinite esteem 
for your character, and my complete confidence in your 
abilities, I make you post-captain on the spot. As the 
axiom of your school seems to be that everything can be 
made perfect at once, without time, without experience, 


POPANILLA. 


385 


•without practice, and without preparation, 1 have no doubt, 
with the aid of a treatise or two, you will make a consum¬ 
mate naval commander, although you have never been at 
sea in the whole course of your life. Farewell, Captain 
Popanilla ! ’ 

No sooner was this adieu uttered than four brawny lords 
of the bedchamber seized the Turgot of Fantaisie by the 
shoulders, and carried him with inconceivable rapidity to 
the shore. His pupils, who would have fled to his rescue, 
were stifled with the embraces of their former partners, 
and their utilitarianism dissolved in the arms of those they 
once so rudely rejected. As for their tutor, he was thrust 
into one of the canoes, with some fresh water, bread-fruit, 
dried fish, and a basket of alligator-pears. A band of 
mermaids carried the canoe with exquisite management 
through the shallows and over the breakers, and poor 
Popanilla in a few minutes found himself out at sea. 
Tremendously frightened, he ofiered to recant all his opin¬ 
ions, and denounce as traitors any individuals whom the 
Court might select. But his former companions did not 
exactly detect the utility of his return. His offers, his 
supplications, were equally fruitless; and the only answer 
which floated to him on the wind was, ‘ Farewell, Captain 
Popanilla! ’ 


CHAPTER VI. 

Night fell upon the waters, dark and drear, and thick 
and misty. How unlike those brilliant hours that once 
summoned him to revelry and love ! Unhappy Popanilla ! 
Thy delicious Fantaisie has vanished! Ah, pitiable youth ! 
What could possibly have induced you to be so very rash ? 
And all from that unlucky lock of hair! 

After a few natural paroxysms of rage, terror, anguish, 
and remorse, the Captain as naturall}’- subsided into de¬ 
spair, and awaited with sullen apathy that fate w^hich 
could not be far distant. Tlie only thing which puzzled 
the philosophical navigator was ivis inability to detect 



386 


POPANILLA. 


■what nsefiil end conld be attained by bis death. At length, 
roniembering that fish must be fed, his theory and his des¬ 
peration were at the same time confirmed. 

A clear, dry morning succeeded the wet, gloomy night, 
and Popanilla had not yet gone down. This extraordinary 
suspension of his fate roused him from his stupor, and 
between the consequent excitement and the morning air 
he acquired an appetite. Philosophical physicians appear 
to have agreed that sorrow, to a certain extent, is not 
unfavourable to digestion; and as Popanilla began to 
entertain some indefinite and unreasonable hopes, the alli¬ 
gator-pears quickly disappeared. In the meantime the 
little canoe cut her way as if she were chasing a smuggler; 
and had it not been for a shark or two who, in anticipation of 
their services being required, never left her side for a second, 
Popanilla really might have made some ingenious obser¬ 
vations on the nature of tides. He was rather surprised, 
certainly, as he watched his frail bark cresting the waves; 
but ho soon supposed that this was all in the natural course 
of things ; and he now ascribed his previous fright, not to 
the peril of his situation, but to his inexperience of it. 

Although his apprehension of being drowned was now 
removed, yet when he gazed on the boundless vacancy 
before him, and also observed that his provisions rapidly 
decreased, he began to fear that he was destined for a still 
more horrible fate, and that, after having eaten his own 
shoes, he must submit to be starved. In this state of 
despondency, with infinite delight and exultation he clearly 
observed, on the second day, at twenty-seven minutes past 
three P.li., though at a considerable distance, a mountain 
.and an island. His joy and his pride W'ere equal, and 
excessive: he called the first Alligator Mountain, in gra¬ 
titude to the pears ; and christened the second after his 
mistress, that unlucky mistress! The swift canoe soon 
reached the discoveries, and the happy discoverer further 
found, to his mortification, that the mountain was a mist 
and the island a sea-weed. Popanilla noAvgrew sulky, and 
threw himself down in the bottom of his boat. 


POPANILLA. 


387 


On the third morning he was awakened by a tremendous 
roar; on looking around him he perceived that ho was in 
a valley formed by two waves, each several hundred feet 
high. This seemed the crisis of his fate ; he shut his eyes, 
as people do when they are touched by a dentist, and in a 
few minutes was still bounding on the ocean in the eternal 
canoe, safe but senseless. Some tremendous peals of 
thunder, a roaring wind, and a scathing lightning con¬ 
firmed his indisposition ; and bad not the tempest subsided, 
Popanilla would probably have been an idiot for life. The 
dead and soothing calm which succeeded this tornado called 
him back again gradually to existence. He opened his 
eyes, and, scarcely daring to try a sense, immediately shut 
them ; then heaving a deep sigh, he shrugged his shoulders, 
and looked as pitiable as a prime minister wdth a rebellious 
cabinet. At length he ventured to lift up his head; there 
was not a wrinkle on the face of ocean; a halcyon fluttered 
over him, and then scudded before his canoe, and game¬ 
some porpoises were tumbling at his side. The sky was 
cloudless, except in the direction to which he was driving ; 
but even as Popanilla observed, with some misgivings, the 
mass of vapours which had there congregated, the great 
square and solid black clouds drew off like curtains, and 
revealed to his entranced vision a magnificent city rising 
out of the sea. 

Tower, and dome, and arch, column, and spire, and 
obelisk, and lofty terraces, and many-windowed palaces, 
rose in all directions from a mass of building which ap¬ 
peared to him each instant to grow more huge, till at 
length it seemed to occupy the whole horizon. The sun 
lent additional lustre to the dazzling quays of white marble 
which apparently surrounded this mighty city, and which 
rose immediately from the dark blue waters. As the navi¬ 
gator drew nearer, he observed that in most parts the 
quays were crowded with beings who, he ti’iistcd, were 
human, and already the hum of multitudes broke upon his 
inexperienced ear: to him a sound far more mysterious 
and far more exciting than the most poetical of winds to 
c c 2 


388 


PGPANILLA. 


the most windy of poets. On the right of this vast city 
rose what was mistaken by Popanilla for an immense but 
leafless forest; but more practical men than the Pantaisian 
Captain have been equally confounded by the first sight of 
a million of masts. 

The canoe cut its way with increased rapidity, and ere 
Popanilla had recovered himself sufiiciently to make even 
an ejaculation, he found himself at the side of a quay. 
Some amphibious creatures, whom he supposed to be mer¬ 
men, immediately came to his assistance, rather stared at 
his serpent-skin coat, and then helped him up the steps. 
Popanilla was instantly surrounded. 

‘ Who are you ? ’ said one. 

‘ What are you ? ’ asked another. 

‘ Who is it ? ’ exclaimed a third. 

‘ What is it ? ’ screamed a fourth. 

‘ My friends, I am a man ! ’ 

‘ A man! ’ said the women ; ‘ are you sure you are a I’oal 
man ? ’ 

‘ He must be a sea-god ! ’ said the females. 

‘ She must be a sea-goddess! ’ said the males. 

‘ A Triton ! ’ maintained the women. 

‘ A Hereid ! ’ argued the men. 

‘ It is a great fish ! ’ said the boys. 

Thanks to the Universal Linguist, Captain Popanilla, 
under these peculiar circumstances, was more loquacious 
than could have been Captain Parry. 

‘ Good people! you see before you the most injured of 
human beings.’ 

This announcement inspired general enthusiasm. The 
W’omen wept, the men shook hands with him, and all the 
boys huzzaed. Popanilla proceeded :— 

‘ Actuated by the most pure, the most patriotic, the most 
noble, the most enlightened, and the most useful sentiments, 
I aspired to ameliorate the condition of my fellow-men. 
To this grand object I have sacrificed all that makes life 
delightful: I have lost my station in society, my taste for 
dancing, ray popularity with the men, my favour with 


POPANILLA. 


389 


the Avojnen; and last, but, oh! not least (excuse this 
emotion), I have lost a very particular lock of hair. In 
one word, my friends, yon see before you, banished, ruined, 
and unhappy, the victim of a despotic sovereign, a con-upt 
aristocracy, and a misguided people.’ 

No sooner had he ceased speaking than Popanilla 
really imagined that he had only escaped the dangers of 
sedition and the sea to expire by less hostile, though not 
less effective, means. To be strangled was not much better 
than to be starved: and certainly, with half-a-dozen highly 
respectable females clinging round his neck, he was not 
reminded for the first time in his life what a domestic 
bowstring is an affectionate woman. In an agony of suffo¬ 
cation he thought very little of his arms, although the 
admiration of tlie men had already, in his imagination, 
separated these useful members from his miserable body ; 
and had it not been for some justifiable kicking and plung¬ 
ing, the veneration of the ingenuous and suiTounding youth, 
which manifested itself by their active exertions to divide 
his singular garment into relics of a martyr of liberty, 
would soon have effectually prevented the ill-starred 
Popanilla from being again mistaken for a Nereid. Order 
was at length restored, and a committee of eight appointed 
to regulate the visits of the increasing mob. 

The arrangements were judicious; the whole populace 
was marshalled into ranks ; classes of twelve persons were 
allowed consecutively to walk past the victim of tyranny, 
corruption, and ignorance ; and each person had the 
honour to touch his finger. During this proceeding, which 
lasted a few hours, an influential personage generously offered 
to receive the eager subscriptions of the assembled thou¬ 
sands. Even the boys subscribed, and ere six hours had 
passed since his arrival as a coatless vagabond in this 
liberal city, Captain Popanilla found himself a person of 
considerable means. 

The receiver of the subscriptions, while he crammed 
Popanilla’s serpent-skin pockets full of gold pieces, at tho 
game time kindly offered the stranger to introduce him to 


390 


POPANILLA. 


an hotel. Popanilla, who was quite beside himself, could 
only bow his assent, and mechanically accompanied his 
conductor. When he had regained his facult}’" of speech, 
he endeavoured, in wandering sentences of grateful inco¬ 
herency, to express his deep sense of this unparalleled 
liberality. ‘ It was an excess of generosity in which man¬ 
kind could never have before indulged 1 ’ 

‘ By no means ! ’ said his companion, with great coolness ; 
‘ far from this being an unparalleled affair, I assure you it 
is a matter of hourly occurrence : make your mind quite easy. 
You are probably not aware that you are now living in the 
richest and the most charitable country in the world ? ’ 

‘ Wonderful!’ said Popanilla; ‘ and what is the name, 
may I ask, of this charitable city ? ’ 

‘ Is it possible,’ said his companion, with a faint smile, 
‘ that 3 ^ou are ignorant of the great city of Hubbabub ; the 
largest city not only that exists, but that ever did exist, 
and the capital of the island of Vraibleusia, the most famous 
island not only that is known, but that ever was known? ’ 
While he was speaking they were accosted by a man 
upon crutches, who, telling them in a broken voice that he 
had a wife and twelve infant children dependent on his 
support, supplicated a little charity. Popanilla was about 
to empty part of his pocketfuls into the mendicant’s cap, 
but his companion repressed his unphilosophical facilitv. 

‘ By no means ! ’ said his friend, who, turning round to 
the beggar, advised him, in a mild voice, to icorlc ; calmly 
adding, that if he presumed to ask charity again he should 
certainly have him bastinadoed. Then they Avalked on. 

Popanilla’s attention was so distracted by the variety, 
the number, the novelty, and the noise of the objects which 
were incessantly hurried upon his observation, that he 
found no time to speak ; and as his companion, though 
exceedingly polite, was a man of few words, conversation 
rather flagged. 

At last, overwhelmed by the magnificence of the streets, 
the splendour of the shops, the number of human beings, 
the rattling of the vehicles, the dashing of the horses, and 


POPANILLA. 


391 


a thousand other sounds and objects, Popanilla gave loose 
to a loud and fervent wish that his hotel might have the 
good fortune of being situated in this interesting quarter. 

‘ By no means ! ’ said his companion ; ‘ we have yet much 
further to go. Par from this being a desirable situation 
for you, my friend, no civilised person is ever seen here; 
and had not the cause of civil and religious liberty for¬ 
tunately called me to the water-side to-day, I should have 
lost the opportunity of showing how greatly 1 esteem a 
gentleman who has suffered so severely in the cause of 
national amelioration.’ 

‘ Sir! ’ said Popanilla, ‘ your approbation is the only 
reward which I ever shall desire for my exertions. You 
will excuse me for not quite keeping up with you ; but the 
fact is, my pockets are so stuffed with cash that the action 
of my legs is greatly impeded.’ 

‘ Credit me, my friend, that you are suffering from an 
inconvenience which you will not long experience in Hub- 
babnb. Nevertheless, to remedy it at present, I think the 
best thing we can do is to buy a purse.’ 

They accordingly entered a shop where such an article 
might be found, and taking up a small sack, for Popanilla 
was very rich, his companion inquired its price, which he 
was informed was four crowns. No sooner had tlie desired 
information been given than the proprietor of the opposite 
shop rushed in, and offered him the same article for three 
crowns. The original merchant, not at all surprised at the 
intrusion, and not tlie least apologising for his former 
extortion, then demanded two. His rival, being more than 
his match, he courteously dropped upon his knee, and 
requested his customer to accept the article gratis, for his 
sake. The generous dealer would infallibly have carried 
the day, had not his rival humbly supplicated the purchaser 
not only to receive his article as a gift, but also the com¬ 
pliment of a crown inside. 

‘What a terrible cheat the first merchant must have 
been ! ’ said the puzzled Popanilla, as they proceeded on 
their way. 


392 


POPANILLA. 


‘ By no means ! ’ said liis calm companion ; ‘ the purse 
was sufficiently cheap even at four crowns. This is not 
Cheatery ; this is Competition ! ’ 

‘ What a wonderful nation, then, this must be, where 
you not only get pimses gratis but even well loaded ! What 
use, then, is all this heavy gold? It is a tremendous trouble 
to carry ; I will empty the bag into this kennel, for money 
surely can be of no use in a city where, when in want of 
cash, you have only to go into a shop and buy a purse ! ’ 

‘ Your pardon! ’ said his companion ; ‘ far from this being 
the case, Vraibleusia is, without doubt, the dearest country 
in the world.’ 

‘If, then,’ said the inquisitive Popani 11a, with great ani¬ 
mation, ‘ if, then, this country be the dearest in the world ; 
if, how-’ 

‘ My good friend ! ’ said his companion, ‘ I really am the 
last person in the world to answer questions. All that I 
know is, that this country is axtremely dear, and that the 
only way to get things cheap is to encourage Competition.’ 

Here the progress of his companion was impeded for 
some time by a great crowd, which had assembled to catch 
a glimpse of a man who was to fly off a steeple, but who 
had not yet arrived. A chimney-sweeper observed to a 
scientific friend that probably the density of the atmosphere 
might prevent the intended volitation; and Popanilla, who, 
having read almost as many pamphlets as the observer, 
now felt quite at home, exceedingly admired the obser¬ 
vation. 

‘He must be a very superior man, this gentleman in 
black! ’ said Popanilla to his companion. 

‘ By no means! he is of the lowest class in society. But 
you are probably not aware that you are in the most 
educated country in the world.’ 

‘ Delightful! ’ said Popanilla. 

The Captain was exceedingly desirous of witnessing the 
flight of the Vraibleusian Dasdalus, but his friend ad\dsed 
their progress. This, however, was not easy; and Popa¬ 
nilla, animated for the moment by his natural aristocratic 



POPANILLA. 


393 


disposition, and emboldened by bis superior size and 
strength, began to clear his way in a manner which was 
more cogent than logical. The chimney-sweeper and his 
comrades were soon in arms, and Popanilla would certainly 
have been killed or ducked by this superior man and his 
friends, had it not been for the mild remonstrance of his 
conductor and the singular appearance of his costume. 

‘ What could have induced you to be so imprudent ? ’ said 
his rescuer, when they had escaped from the crowd. 

‘ Truly,’ said Popanilla, ‘ I thought that in a country 
where you may bastinado the wretch who presumes to ask 
you for alms, there could surely be no objection to my 
knocking down the scoundrel who dared to stand in my 
^vay.’ 

‘By no means!’ said his friend, slightly elevating his 
ej^ebrows. ‘ Here all men are equal. You are probably not 
aware that you are at present in the freest country in the 
world.’ 

‘ I do not exactly understand you; what is this freedom ? ’ 

‘My good friend, I really am the last person in the 
world to answer questions. Freedom is, in one word. 
Liberty; a kind of thing which you foreigners never can 
understand, and which mere theory can make no man under¬ 
stand. When you have been in the island a few weeks all 
will be quite clear to you. In the meantime, do as others 
do, and never knock men down ! ’ 


CHAPTER VII. 

‘ Although we are yet some way from our hotel,’ remarked 
Popanilla’s conductor, ‘ we have now arrived at a part of 
the city where I can ease you, without difficulty, from your 
troublesome burthen ; let us enter here ! ’ 

As he spoke, they stojDped before a splendid palace, and 
proceeding through various halls full of individuals appa¬ 
rently intently busied, the companions were at last ushered 
into an apartment of smaller size, but of more elegant clia- 




394 


POPANILLA. 


racter. A personage of prepossessing appearance was lolling 
on a couch of an appearance equally prepossessing. Before 
liim, on a table, were some papers, exquisite fruits, and some 
liqueurs. Popanilla was presented, and received with fasci-' 
Bating complaisance. His friend stated the object of their 
visit, and handed the sackful of gold to the gentleman on 
the sofa. The gentleman on the sofa ordered a couple of 
attendants to ascertain its contents. While this computa¬ 
tion was going on he amused his guests by his lively con¬ 
versation, and charmed Popanilla by his polished manners 
and easy civility. He offered him, during his stay in 
Vraibleusia, the use of a couple of equipages, a villa, and 
an opera-box ; insisted upon sending to his hotel some pine¬ 
apples and some rare wine, and gave him a perpetual ticket 
to his picture-gallery. When his attendants had concluded 
their calculation, he ordered them to place Popanilla’s 
jDrecious metal in his treasury; and then, presenting the 
Captain with a small packet of pink shells, he kindly en¬ 
quired whether he could be of any further use to him. 
Popanilla was loth to retire without his gold, of the utility 
of which, in spite of the conveniency of competition, he 
seemed to possess an instinctive conception; but as his 
friend rose and withdrew, he could do nothing less than 
accompany him; for, having now known him nearly half a 
day, his confidence in his honour and integrity was natu¬ 
rally unbounded. 

‘ That was the King, of course ? ’ said Popanilla, when 
they were fairly out of the palace. 

‘ The King ! ’ said the unknown, nearly surprised into an 
exclamation ; ‘ by no means ! ’ 

‘ And what then ? ’ - 

‘ My good friend ! is it possible that you have no bankers 
in your country ? ’ 

‘ Yes, it is very possible; but we have mermaids, who 
also give us shells which are pretty. Mriiat then are your 
bankers ? ’ 

‘ Really, my good friend, that is a question which I never 
remember having been asked before; but a banker is a man 
who—keeps our money for us.’ 


POPANILLA. 


395 


‘ Ah! and he is bound, I suppose, to return your money 
when you choose ? ’ 

‘ Most assuredly! ’ 

‘ He is, then, in fact, your servant: you must pay him 
handsomely, for him to live so well ? ’ 

‘ By no means ! we pay him nothing.’ 

‘ That is droll; he must be very rich then ? ’ 

‘ B-eally, my dear friend, I cannot say. Why, yes! 
I—I suppose he may be very rich ! ’ 

‘ ’Tis singular that a rich man should take so much 
trouble for others ! ’ 

‘ My good friend ! of course he lives by his trouble.’ 

‘ Ah ! How, then,’ continued the inquisitive Fantaisian, 

‘ if you do not pay him for his services, and he yet lives by 
them ; how, I pray, does he acquire these immense riches ? ’ 

‘ Really, my good sir, I am, in truth, the very last man 
in the world to answer questions ; he is a banker ; bankers 
are always rich ; but why they are, or how they are, I 
really never had time to inquire. But I suppose, if the 
truth were known, they must have very great opportu¬ 
nities.’ 

‘ Ah ! I begin to see,’ said Popanilla. ‘ It was really 
very kind of him,’ continued the Captain, ‘ to make me a 
present of these little pink shells : what would I not give to 
tui’n them into a necklace, and send it to a certain person 
at Fantaisie ! ’ 

‘ It would be a very expensive necklace,’ observed his 
companion, almost surprised. ‘ I had no idea, I confess, 
from your appearance, that in your country they indulged 
in such expensive tastes in costume.’ 

‘ Expensive ! ’ said Popanilla. ‘ We certainly have no 
such shells as these in Fantaisie; but we have much more 
beautiful ones. I should think, from their look, they must 
be rather common.’ 

His conductor for the first time nearly laughed. ‘ I 
forgot,’ said he, ‘ that you could not be aware that these 
pink shells are the most precious coin of the land, com¬ 
pared with which those bits of gold ^\dth which you have 


396 


POPANILLA. 


recently parted are nothing ; your whole fortune is now in 
that little packet. The fact is,’ continued the unknown, 
making an effort to communicate, ‘ although we possess in 
this country more of the precious metals than all the rest 
of the world together, the quantity is nevertheless utterly 
disproportioned to the magnitude of our wealth and our 
wants. We have been, therefore, under the necessity of 
resorting to other means of representing the first and 
supplying the second ; and, taking advantage of our insular 
situation, we have introduced these small pink shells, -which 
abound all round the coast. Being much more convenient 
to carry, they are in general circulation, and no genteel 
jDerson has ever anything else in his pocket.’ 

‘ Wonderful! But surely, then, it is no very difficult 
thing in this country to accumulate a fortune, since all 
that is necessary to give you every luxury of life is a stroll 
one morning of your existence along the beach ? ’ 

‘ By no means, my friend ! you are really too rapid. 
The fact is, that no one has the power of originally circu¬ 
lating these shells but our Government; and if any one, 
by any chance, choose to violate this arrangement, we make 
up for depriving him of his solitary -walks on the shore by 
instant submersion in the sea.’ 

‘ Then the whole circulation of the country is at the 
mercy of your Government ? ’ remarked Popanilla, sum¬ 
moning to his recollection the contents of one of those 
shipwrecked hrocliures which had exercised so strange an 
influence on his destiny. ‘ Suppose they do not choose to 
issue ? ’ 

‘ That is always guarded against. The mere quarterly 
payments of interest upon our national debt will secure an 
ample supply.’ 

‘ Debt! I thought you were the richest nation in the 
world ? ’ 

‘ ’Tis true; nevertheless, if there -\vere a golden pyramid 
-with a base as big as the whole earth and an apex touching 
the heavens, it would not supply us with sufficient metal to 
satisfy our creditors.’ 


POPANILLA. 


397 


‘ But, my dear sir,’ exclaimed the perplexed Popauilla, 
‘ if this really be true, how then can you be said to be the 
richest nation in the world ? ’ 

‘ It is very simple. The annual interest upon our debt 
exceeds the whole wealth of the rest of the world; there¬ 
fore we must be the richest nation in the world.’ 

‘ ’Tis true,’ said Popauilla; ‘ I see I have yet much to learn. 
But with regard to these pink shells, how can you possibly 
create for them a certain standard of value ? It is merely 
agreement among yourselves that fixes any value to them.’ 

‘ By no means ! you are so rapid ! Each shell is imme¬ 
diately convertible into gold ; of which metal, let me again 
remind you, we possess more than any other nation ; but 
which, indeed, we only keep as a sort of dress coin, chiefly 
to indulge the prejudices of foreigners.’ 

‘ But,’ said the perpetual Popauilla, ‘ suppose every man 

who held a shell on the same day were to-’ 

‘ My good friend ! I really am the last person in the 
world to give explanations. In Vraibleusia, we have so 
much to do that we have no time to think ; a habit which 
only becomes nations who are not employed. You are now 
fast approaching the Great Shell Question; a question 
which, I confess, affects the interests of every man in this 
island more than any other ; but of which, I must candidly 
own, every man in this island is more ignorant than of any 
other. No one, however, can deny that the system works 
well; and if anything at any time go wrong, why really 
Mr. Secretary Periwinkle is a wonderful man, and our 
most eminent conchologist. He, no doubt, will set it right; 
and if, by any chance, things are past even his management, 
why then, I suppose, to use our national motto, something 
will turn up.^ 

Here they arrived at the hotel. Having made every 
arrangement for the comfort and convenience of the Pan- 
taisian stranger, Popanilla’s conductor took his leave, pre¬ 
viously informing him that his name was Skindeep; that 
he was a member of one of the largest families in the island ; 
that, had he not been engaged to attend a lecture, he 



398 


POPANILLA. 


would have sta^'ed and dined with him ; but that he would 
certainly call upon him on the morrow. 

Compared with his hotel the palace of his banker was a 
dungeon ; even the sunset voluptuousness of Fantaisie was 
now remembered without regret in the blaze of artificial 
light and in the artificial gratification of desires which 
art bad alone created. After a magnificent repast, his host 
politely inquired of Popanilla 'whether he would like to go 
to the Opera, the comedy, or a concert; but the Fantaisian 
philosopher was not yet quite corrupted ; and, still inspired 
with a desire to acquire useful knowledge, he begged his 
landlord to procure him immediately a pamphlet on the 
Shell Question. 

While his host was engaged in procuring this luxury a 
man entered the room and told Popanilla that he had 
walked that day two thousand five hundi^ed paces, and 
that the tax due to the Excise upon this promenade was 
fifty crowns. The Captain stared, and remarked to the 
excise-officer that he thought a man’s paces were a strange 
article to tax. The excise-officer, with great civility, an¬ 
swered that no doubt at first sight it might appear rather 
strange, but that it was the only, article left untaxed in 
Vraibleusia; that there was a slight deficiency in the last 
quarter’s revenue, and that therefore the Government had 
no alternative; that it was a tax which did not press 
heavily upon the individual, because the Vraibleusians were 
of a sedentary habit; that, besides, it was an opinion every 
day more received among the best judges that the more a 
man was taxed the richer he ultimately would prove ; and 
he concluded by saying that Popanilla need not make liim- 
self uneasy about these demands, because, if he were ruined 
to-morrow, being a foreigner, he was entitled by the law of 
the land to five thousand a-year; whereas he, the excise¬ 
man, beinsT a. native-born Vraibleusian, had no claims wliat- 
ever upon the Government; therefore he hoped his honour 
would give him something to drink. 

His host now enter(;d with the ‘ Novum Organon ’ of the 
great Periwinkle. While Popanilla devoured the bvely 


POPANILLA. 


399 


pages of this treatise, he discovered that the system which 
had been so subtilely introduced by the Government, and 
which had so surprised him in the morning, had soon been 
adopted in private life ; and although it was drowning 
matter to pick up pink shells, still there was nothing to 
prevent the whole commerce of the country from being 
carried on by means of a system equally conchological. He 
found that the social action in every part of the island was 
regulated and assisted by this process. Oyster-shells were 
first introduced ; muscle-shells speedily followed ; and, as 
commerce became more complicate, they had even been 
obliged to have recourse to snail-shells. Popanilla retired 
to rest with admiration of the people who thus converted 
to the most useful purposes things apparently so useless. 
There was no saying now what might not be done even 
with a nutshell. It was evident that the nation who con¬ 
trived to be the richest people in the world while they 
were over head and ears in debt must be fast approaching 
to a state of perfection. Finally, sinking to sleep in a bed 
of eiderdown, Popanilla was confirmed in his prejudices 
against a state of nature. 


CHAPTER Viri. 

Skindeep called upon Popanilla on the following morn¬ 
ing in an elegant equipage, and with great politeness pro¬ 
posed to attend him in a drive about the city. 

The island of Vraibleusia is one hundred and fifty miles 
in circumference, two-thirds of which are covered by the 
city of Hubbabub. It contains no other city, town, or vil¬ 
lage. The rest of the island consists of rivers, canals, and 
railroads. Popanilla was surprised when he was informed 
that Hubbabub did not contain more than five millions of 
inhabitants ; but his surprise was decreased when their 
journey occasionally lay through tracts of streets, consist" 
inf>’ often of capacious mansions entirely tenantless. On 
seeking an explanation of this seeming desolation, he Avas 
told that the Hubbabubians were possessed by a frenzy of 




400 


POPANILLA. 


always moving westward; and that consequently great 
quarters of the city are perpetually deserted. Even as 
Skindeep was speaking their passage was stopped by a 
large caravan of carriages and waggons heavily laden with 
human creatures and their children and chattels. On Skin- 
deep inquiring the cause of this great movement, he was 
informed by one on horseback, who seemed to be the leader 
of the horde, that they were the late dwellers in sundry 
squares and streets situated far to the east; that their 
houses having been ridiculed by an itinerant ballad-singer, 
the female part of the tribe had insisted upon immediately 
quitting their unfashionable fatherland ; and that now, 
after three days’ journey, they had succeeded in reaching 
the late settlement of a horde who had migrated to the 
extreme west. 

Quitting regions so subject to revolutions and vicissi¬ 
tudes, the travellers once more emerged into quarters of a 
less transitory reputation ; and in the magnificent parks, 
the broad streets, the ample squares, the palaces, the trium¬ 
phal arches, and the theatres of occidental Hubbabub, Po- 
panilla lost those sad and mournful feelings which are ever 
engendered by contemplating the gloomy relics of departed 
greatness. It was impossible to admire too much the ar¬ 
chitecture of this part of the city. The elevations were 
indeed imposing. In general, the massy Egyptian appro¬ 
priately graced the attic-stories ; while the finer and more 
elaborate architecture of Corinth w^as placed on a level 
with the eye, so that its beauties might be more easily dis¬ 
covered. Spacious colonnades were flanked by porticoes, 
surmounted by domes ; nor was the number of columns at 
all limited, for you occasionally met with porticos of two 
tiers, the lower one of which consisted of three, the higher 
one of thii’ty columns. Pedestals of the purest Ionic Gothic 
were ingeniously intermixed with Palladian pediments ; and 
the surging spire exquisitely harmonised with the horizon¬ 
tal architecture of the ancients. But perhaps, after all, 
the most charming efiect was prodimed by the pyramids, 
surmounted by weathercocks. 


POPANILLA. 


401 


Popanilla was particularly pleased by some chimneys of 
Caryatides, and did not for a moment hesitate in assenting 
to the assertion of Skindeep that the Vraibleusians were 
the most architectural nation in the world. True it was, 
they had begun late; their attention as a people having 
been, for a considerable time, attracted to much more im¬ 
portant affairs ; but they had compensated for their tardy 
attention by their speedy excellence.* 

Before they returned home Skindeep led Popanilla to 
the top of a tower, from whence they had a complete view 
of the whole island. Skindeep particularly directed the 
Captain’s attention to one spot, where flourished, as he 
said, the only corn-fields in the country, which supphed 
the whole nation, and were the property of one individual. 
So unrivalled was liis agricultural science that the vulgar 
only accounted for his admirable produce by a miraculous 
fecundity ! The proprietor of these hundred golden acres 
was a rather mysterious sort of personage. He was an 
aboriginal inhabitant, and, though the only one of the abo¬ 
rigines in existence, had lived many centuries, and, to the 
consternation of some of the Vraibleusians and the exulta¬ 
tion of others, exhibited no signs of decay. This awful 
being was Avithout a name. When spoken of by his ad¬ 
mirers he was generally described by such panegyrical 
periphrases as ‘ soul of the country, ’ ‘ foundation of the 
State,’ ‘ the only real, and true, and substantial being; ’ 
while, on the other hand, those who presumed to differ from 
those sentiments Avere in the habit of styling him ‘the 
dead weight,’ ‘ the vampire,’ ‘ the night-mare,’ and other 
titles equally complimentary. They also maintained that, 
instead of being either real or substantial, he Avas, in fact, 
the most flimsy and fictitious personage in the Avhole island ; 
and then, lashing themselves up into metaphor, they Avould 
call him a meteor, or a vapour, or a great windy bubble, 
that would some day burst. 

* See a work Avhich will be shortly published, entitled, ‘ The differ¬ 
ence detected between Architecture and ^architecture, by SansoTino the 
Second.’ 


D D 


402 


POPANILLA. 


The Aboriginal insisted that it was the common law of 
the land that the islanders should purchase their corn only 
of him. They grumbled, but he growled ; he swore that it 
was the constitution of the country ; that there was an 
uninterrupted line of precedents to confirm the claim ; and 
that, if they did not approve of the arrangement, they and 
their fathers should not have elected to have settled, or 
presumed to have been spawned, upon his island. Then, 
as if he were not desirous of resting his claim on its mere 
legal merits, he Avould remind them of the superiority of his 
grain, and the impossibility of a scarcity, in the event of 
which calamity an insular people could always find a plen¬ 
tiful though temporary resource in sea-weed. He then 
clearly proved to them that, if eA’'er they had the impru¬ 
dence to change any of their old laws, they would neces¬ 
sarily never have more than one meal a day as long as they 
lived. Finally, he recalled to their recollection that he had 
made the island what it Avas, that he Avas their mainstay, 
and that his counsel and exertions had rendered them the 
Avonder of the world. Thus, betAV^een force, and fear, and 
flattery, the Vraibleusians paid for their corn nearly its 
weight in gold ; but Avhat did that signify to a nation AAnth 
so many pink shells ! 


CHAPTER IX. 

The third day after his drive Avith his fidend Skindeep, 
Popanilla was Avaited upon by the most eminent bookseller 
in Hubbabub, who begged to have the honour of intro¬ 
ducing to the public a Narrative of Captain Popanilla’s 
Voyage. This gentleman assured Popanilla that the Vrai- 
bleusian public Avere nervously alive to anything connected 
with discovery ; that so ardent Avas their attachment to 
science and natural philosophy that vojnges and travels 
were sure to be read Avith eagerness, particularly if they 
had coloured plates. Popanilla Avas charmed Avith the 
proposition, but blushingly informed the mercantile Msecenaa 



POPANILLA. 


403 


that he did not Icnow how to write. The puhlislior told 
him that this circumstance was not of the slightest im¬ 
portance ; that he had never for a moment supposed that 
so sublime a savage could possess such a vulgar accom¬ 
plishment ; and that it was by no means difficult for a man 
to publish his travels without writing a lino of them. 

Popanilla having consented to become an author upon 
these terms, the publisher asked him to dine with him, and 
introduced him to an intelligent indi\ddual. This intelli¬ 
gent individual listened attentively to all Popanilla’s ad¬ 
ventures. The Captain concealed nothing. He began 
with the eternal lock of hair, and showed how wonderfully 
this world was constituted, that even the loss of a thing 
was not useless; from which it was clear that Utility was 
Providence. After drinking some capital wine, the intclli- 
gent individual told Popanilla that he was wrong in sup¬ 
posing Fantaisie to be an island ; that, on the contraiy, it 
was a great continent; that this was proved by the pro¬ 
bable action of the tides in the part of the island which 
had not yet been visited; that the consequence of these 
tides would be that, in the course of a season or two, Fan¬ 
taisie would become a great receptacle for icebergs, and be 
turned into the North Pole ; that, therefore, the seasons 
tljroughout the world would be changed ; that this year, in 
Vraibleusia, the usual winter would be omitted, and that 
when the present summer was finished the dog-days would 
again commence. Popanilla took his leave highly delighted 
with this intelligent individual and with the bookseller’s 
wine. 

Owing to the competition which existed between the 
publishers, the printers, and the engravers of the city of 
Hubbabub, and the great exertions of the intelligent in¬ 
dividual, the Narrative of Captain Popanilla’s Voyage was 
brought out in less than a week, and was immediately in 
eveiybody’s hand. The work contained a detailed accountbf 
everything which took place during the whole of the three 
days, and formed a quarto volume. The plates were 
numeroas and highly interesting. There was a line en- 

s D 2 


404 


POPANILLA. 


graving of Alligator Mountain and a mezzotint of Seaweed 
Island; a view' of the canoe N.E.; a view of the canoe 
N.W.; a view of the canoe S.E.; a view of the canoe S.W. 
There w'ere highly-finished coloured drawings of the dried 
fish and the bread-fruit, and an exquisitely tinted repre¬ 
sentation of the latter in a mouldy state. But the chef- 
d'oeuvre was the portrait of the Author himself. He was 
represented trampling on the body of a boa constrictor of 
the first quality, in the skin of which he was dressed; at 
his back were his bow and arrows; his right hand rested 
on an uprooted pine-tree; he stood in a desert betw'een two 
volcanoes ; at his feet was a lake of magnitude; the distance 
lowered with an approaching tornado; but a lucky flash 
of lightning revealed the range of the Andes and both 
oceans. Altogether he looked the most dandified of 
savages, and the most savage of dandies. It was a sublime 
lithograph, and produced scarcely less important efiects 
upon Popanilla’s fortune than that lucky ‘ lock of hair ; ’ 
for no sooner was the portrait published than Popanilla 
received a ticket for the receptions of a lady of quality. On 
showing it to Skindeep, he was told that the honour was 
immense, and therefore he must go by all means. Skin- 
deep regretted that he could not accompany him, but he 
was engaged to a lecture on shoemaking; and a lecture 
was a thing he made it a point never to miss, because, as 
he very properly observed, ‘ By lectures you may become 
extremely well informed without any of the inconveniences 
of study. Ho fixity of attention, no continuity of medita¬ 
tion, no habits of reflection, no aptitude of combination, 
are the least requisite; all which things only give you a 
nervous headache ; and yet you gain all the results of all 
these processes. True it is that that which is so easily 
acquired is not always so easily remembered; but what of 
that ? Suppose you forget any subject, why then you go 
to another lecture.’ ‘ Very true ! ’ said Popanilla. 

Popanilla failed not to remember his invitation from 
Lady Spirituelle; and at the proper hour his announce¬ 
ment produced a sensation throughout her crowded saloons. 


POPANILLA. 


40o 


Spirituelle was a most enclianting lady ; she asked Popa- 
nilla how tall he really was, and whether the women in 
Fantaisie were as handsome as the men. Then she said 
that the Vraibleusians were the most intellectual and the 
most scientific nation in the world, and that the society at 
her house was the most intellectual and the most scientific 
in Yraibleusia. She told him also that she had hoped by 
this season the world would have been completely regulated 
by mind; but that the subversion of matter was a more 
substantial business than she and the Committee of Man¬ 
agement had imagined: she had no doubt, however, that 
in a short time mind must carry the day, because matter 
was.mortal and mind eternal; therefore mind had the 
best chance. Finally, she also told him that the passions 
were the occasion of all the misery which had ever existed; 
and that it was impossible for mankind either to be happy 
or great until, like herself and her friends, they were ‘ all 
soul.’ 

Popanilla was charmed with his company. What a 
difference between the calm, smiling, easy, uninteresting, 
stupid, sunset countenances of Fantaisie and those around 
him. All looked so interested and so intelligent; their 
eyes were so anxious, their gestures so animated, their 
manners so earnest. They must be very clever ! He drew 
nearer. If before he were charmed, now he was enchanted. 
What an universal acquisition of useful knowledge ! Three 
or four dukes were earnestly imbibing a new theory of gas 
from a brilliant little gentleman in black, who looked like a 
Will-o’-the-wisp. The Prime Minister was anxious about pin¬ 
making ; a Bishop equally interested in a dissertation on the 
escapements of watches; a Field-Marshal not less intent on 
a new specific from the concentrated essence of hellebore. But 
what most delighted Popanilla was hearing a lecture from 
the most eminent lawyer and statesman in Vraibleusia on 
his first and favourite study of hydrostatics. His associa¬ 
tions quite overcame him: all Fantaisie rushed upon his 
memory, and he was obliged to retire to a less frequented 
part of the room to relieve his too excited feelings. 


406 


POPAKILLA. 


He was in a few miimtes addressed by the identical 
little gentleman who had recently been speculating with 
the three dukes. 

The little gentleman told him that he had heard with 
great pleasure that in Fantaisie they had no historians, 
poets, or novelists. He proved to Popanilla that no such 
thing as experience existed ; that, as the world was now 
to bo regulated on quite diilerent principles from those by 
which it had hitherto been conducted, similar events to 
those which had occurred could never again take place; 
and therefore it was absolutely useless to know anything 
about the past. With regard to literary fiction, he ex¬ 
plained that, as it was absolutely necessary, from his nature, 
that man should experience a certain quantity of excite¬ 
ment, the false interest which these productions created 
prevented their readers from obtaining this excitement by 
methods which, by the discovery of the useful, might 
greatly benefit society. 

‘You are of opinion, then,’ exclaimed the delighted 
Popanilla, ‘ that nothing is good which is not useful ? ’ 

‘ Is it possible that an individual exists in this world who 
doubts this great first principle ? ’ said the little man, with 
great animation. 

‘ Ah, my dear friend ! ’ said Popanilla, ‘ if you only 
knew what an avowal of this great first principle has cost 
me ; what I have suffered; what I have lost! ’ 

‘What have you lost ? ’ asked the little gentleman. 

‘ In the first place, a lock of hair-’ 

‘ Poh, nonsense ! ’ 

‘ Ah ! you may say Poh ! but it was a particular lock of 
hair.’ 

‘ ;My friend, that word is odious. Nothing is particular, 
everything is general. Rules are general, feelings are 
general, and property should be general; and, sir, I tell 
you what, in a very short time it must be so. Why should 
Lady Spii-ituelle, for instance, receive me at her house, 
rather than 1 receive her at mine ? ’ 

* Why don’t you, then ? ’ asked the simple Popanilla. 



POPANILLA. 


407 


‘ Because I have not got one, sir! ’ roared the little gen¬ 
tleman. 

He would certainly have broken away had not Popanilla 
begged him to answer one question. The Captain, reitera¬ 
ting in the most solemn manner his firm belief in the 
dogma that nothing was good which was not useful, and 
again detailing the persecutions which this conviction had 
brought upon him, was delighted that an opportunity was 
now afforded to gain from the lips of a distinguished phi¬ 
losopher a definition of what utility really was. The dis¬ 
tinguished philosopher could not reJfuse so trifling a favour, 

‘ Utility,’ said he, ‘ is-’ 

At this critical moment there was a universal buzz 
throughout the rooms, and everybody looked so interested 
that the philosopher quite forgot to finish his answer. On 
inquiring the cause of this great sensation, Popanilla was 
informed that a rumour was about that a new element had 
been discovered that afternoon. The party speedily broke 
up, the principal philosophers immediately rushing to their 
clubs to ascertain the truth of this report. Popanilla was 
anfasliionable enough to make his acknowledgments to his 
hostess before he left her house. As he gazed upon her 
ladyship’s brilliant eyes and radiant complexion, he felt 
convinced of the truth of her theory of the passions ; he 
could not refrain from pressing her hand in a manner which 
violated etiquette, and which a nativity in the Indian Ocean 
could alone excuse; the pressure was graciously returned. 
As Popanilla descended the staircase, he discovered a little 
note of pink satin paper entangled in his ruffle. He opened 
it with curiosity. It was ‘ All soul.’ He did not return to 
his hotel quite so soon as he expected. 


CHAPTER X. 

Popanilla breakfasted rather late the next morning, and on 
looking over the evening papers, which were just published, 
his eyes lighted on the following paragraph :— 




408 


POPANILLA. 


‘ Arrived yesterday at tlie Hotel Diplomatique, His Ex¬ 
cellency Prince Popanilla, Ambassador Extraordinary and 
Minister Plenipotentiary from the newly-recognised State 
of Fantaisie.’ 

Before his Excellency could either recover from his asto¬ 
nishment or make any inquiries which might throw any 
illustration upon its cause, a loud shout in the street made 
him naturally look out of the window. He observed three 
or four magnificent equipages drawing up at the door of 
the hotel, and followed by a large crowd. Each carriage 
was drawn by four horses, and attended by footmen so 
radiant with gold and scarlet that, had Pojoanilla been the 
late ingenious Mr. Keates, he would have mistaken them 
for the natural children of Phoebus and Aurora. The 
Ambassador forgot the irregularity of the paragraph in the 
splendour of the liveries. He felt triumphantly conscious 
that the most beautiful rose in the world must look ex¬ 
tremely pale by the side of scarlet cloth; and this new 
example of the superiority of art over nature reminding 
him of the inferionty of bread-fruit to grilled muffin, he 
resolved to return to breakfast. 

But it was his fate to be reminded of the inutility of the 
best resolutions, for ere the cup of coffee had touched his 
parched lips the door of his room flew open, and the Mar¬ 
quess of Moustache was announced. 

His Lordship was a young gentleman with an expressive 
countenance ; that is to say, his face was so covered with 
hair, and the back of his head cropped so bald, that you 
generally addressed him in the rear by mistake. He did 
not speak, but continued bowing for a considerable time, 
in that diplomatic manner which means so much. By the 
time he had finished bowing his suite had gained the apart¬ 
ment, and his Private Secretary, one of those uncommonly 
able men who only want an opportunity, seized the present 
one of addressing Popanilla. 

Bowing to the late Captain with studied respect, he in¬ 
formed him that the Marquess Moustache was the nobleman 
appointed by the Government of Yraibleusia to attend upon 


rOPANILLA. 


409 


his Excellency during the first few weeks of his mission, 
with the view of affording him all information upon those 
objects which might naturally be expected to engage the 
interest or attract the attention of so distinguished a per¬ 
sonage. The ‘ ancien marin’ and present Ambassador had 
been so used to miracles since the loss of that lock of hair, 
that he did not think it supernatural, having during the 
last few days been in turn a Fantaisian nobleman, a post¬ 
captain, a fish, a goddess, and, above all, an author, he 
should now be transformed into a plenipotentiary. Driuk- 
ing, therefore, his cup of coffee, he assumed an air as if he 
really were used to have a Marquess for an attendant, and 
said that he was at his Lordship’s service. 

The Marquess bowed low, and the Private Secretary 
remarked that the first thing to be done by his Excellency 
was to bo presented to the Government. After that he 
was to visit all the manufactories in Yraibleusia, subscribe 
to all the charities, and dine with all the Corporations, 
attend a dejeuner d la fourchette at a palace they were at 
present buildmg under the sea, give a gold plate to be run 
for on the fashionable racecourse, be present at morning 
prayers at the Government Chapel, hunt once or twice, 
give a dinner or two himself, make one pun, and go to the 
Play, by which various means, he said, the good under¬ 
standing between the two countries would be materially 
increased and, in a manner, established. 

As the Fantaisian Ambassador and his suite entered their 
carriages, the sky, if it had not been for the smoke, would 
certainly have been rent by the acclamations of the mob. 
‘ Popanilla for ever! ’ sounded from all quarters, except 
where the shout was varied by ‘Yraibleusia and Fantaisie 
against the world! ’ which perhaps was even the most 
popular sentiment of the two. The Ambassador was quite 
agitated, and asked the Marquess what he was to do. The 
Private Secretary told his Excellency to bow. Popanilla 
bowed with such grace that in five minutes the horses were 
taken out of his carriage, and that carriage dragged in 
triumph by the enthusiastic populace. Ho continued 


410 


POPANILLA. 


bo-wing, and their enthusiasm continued increasing. In the 
meantime his Excellency’s portrait was sketched by an 
artist who hung upon his wheel, and in less than half an 
hour a lithographic likeness of the popular idol was wor¬ 
shipped in every print-shop in Hubbabub. 

As they drew nearer the Hall of Audience the crowd 
kept increasing, till at length the whole city seemed poured 
forth to meet him. Although now feeling conscious that 
he was the greatest man in the island, and therefore only 
thinking of himself, Popanilla’s attention was nevertheless 
at this moment attracted by a singular figure. He was 
apparently a man : in stature a Patagonian, and robust as 
a well-fed ogre. His countenance was jolly, but consequen¬ 
tial ; and his costume a curious mixture of a hunting-dress 
and a court suit. He was on foot, and in spite of the 
crowd, with the aid of a good whip and his left fist made 
his way with great ease. On inquiring who this extraor¬ 
dinary personage might be, Popanilla was informed that it 
was THE Aboriginal Inhabitant. As the giant passed the 
Ambassador’s carriages, the whole suite, even Lord Mous¬ 
tache, rose and bent low ; and the Secretary told Popanilla 
that there was no person in the island for whom the 
Government of Vraibleusia entertained so profound a 
respect. 

The crowd was now so immense that even the progress 
of the Aboriginal Inhabitant was for a moment impeded. 
The great man got surrounded by a large body of little 
mechanics. The contrast between the pale pei’spiring 
visages and lean forms of these emaciated and half-gene¬ 
rated creatures, and the jolly form and ruddy countenance, 
gigantic limbs and ample frame, of the Aboriginal, was 
most striking; nor could any one view the group for an 
instant without feeling convinced that the latter was 
really a superior existence. The mechanics, who were 
worn by labour, not reduced by famine, far from being 
miserable, were impudent. They began rating the mighty 
one for the dearness of his corn. He received their attacks 
with mildness. He reminded them that the regulation 


POPANILLA. 


411 


t)y which they procured their bread was the aboriginal law 
of the island, under which they had all so greatly flourished. 
He ex])lained to them that it was owing to this protecting 
priiu iple that he and his ancestors, having nothing to do 
but to hunt and shoot, had so preserved their health that, 
unlike the rest of the human race, they had not degene¬ 
rated from the original form and nature of man. Ho 
showed that it was owing to the vigour of mind and body 
consequent upon tliis fine health that Vraibleusia had 
become the wonder of the world, and that they themselves 
were so actively employed ; and he inferred that they surely 
could not grudge him the income which he derived, since 
that income was, in fact, the foundation of their own 
profits. He then satisfactorily demonstrated to them that 
if by any circumstances he were to cease to exist, the whole 
island would immediately sink under the sea. Having thus 
condescended to hold a little parley with his fellow-subjects, 
though not fellow-creatures, he gave them all a good sound 
flogging, and departed amidst the enthusiastic cheering of 
those whom he had so briskly lashed. 

By this time Popanilla had arrived at the Hall of 
Audience. 

* It was a vast and venerable pile.’ 

His Excellency and suite quitted their carriages amidst 
the renewed acclamations of the mob. Proceeding through 
a number of courts and quadrangles, crowded with guards 
and officials, they stopped before a bronze gate of great 
height. Over it was written, in vast characters of living 
flame, this inscription: 

TO 

THE WISEST AND THE BEST, 

THE RICHEST AND THE MIGHTIEST, 

THE GLORY AND THE ADMIRATION, 

THE DEFENCE AND THE CONSTERNATION. 

On reading this mysterious inscription his Excellency 
experienced a sudden and awful shudder. Lord ]\Ioustache, 
however, who was more used to mysteries, taking up a 


412 


rOPANILLA. 


silver trumpet, which was fixed to the portal by a crimson 
cord, gave a loud blast. The gates flew open with tho 
souud of a whirlwind, and Popanilla found himself in what 
at first appeared an illimitable hall. It was crowded, but 
perfect order was preserved. The Ambassador was con¬ 
ducted with great pomp to the upper end of the apartment, 
where, after an hour’s walk, his Excellency arrived. At 
the extremity of the hall was a colossal and metallic Statue 
of extraordinary appearance. It represented an armed 
monarch. The head and bust were of gold, and the curling 
hair was crowned with an imperial diadem ; the body and 
arms were of silver, worked in the semblance of a complete 
suit of enamelled armour of the feudal ages ; and the thighs 
and legs were of iron, which the artist had clothed in the 
bandaged hose of the old Saxons. The figure bore the 
appearance of great antiquity, but had evidently been often 
repaired and renovated since its first formation. The 
workmanship was clearly of different eras, and the repa¬ 
rations, either from ignorance or intention, had often been 
effected with little deference to the original design. Part 
of the shoulders had been supplied by the other, though 
less precious, metal, and the Roman and Imperial orna¬ 
ments had unaccountably been succeeded by the less classic, 
though more picturesque, decorations of Gothic armour. 
On the other hand, a great portion of the chivalric and 
precious material of the body had been removed, and re¬ 
placed by a style and substance resembling those of the 
lower limbs. In its right hand the Statue brandished a 
naked sword, and with its left leant upon a huge, though 
extremely rich and elaborately carved, crosier. It trampled 
upon a shivered lance and a broken chain. 

‘ Your Excellency perceives,’ said the Secretary, pointing 
to the Statue, ‘ that ours is a mixed Government.’ 

Popanilla was informed that this extraordinary Statue 
enjoyed all the faculties of an intellectual being, with the 
additional advantage of some faculties which intellectual 
beings do not enjoy. It possessed not only tho faculty of 
speech, but of speaking truth; not only the power of judg- 


POPANILLA. 


413 


ment, but oi judging rightly; not only the habit of listening, 
but of listening attentively. Its antiquity was so remote 
that the most profound and acute antiquarians had failed in 
tracing back its origin. The Aboriginal Inhabitant, how¬ 
ever, asserted that it was the work of one of his ancestors ; 
and as his assertion was confirmed by all traditions, the 
allegation was received. Whatever might have been its 
origin, certain it was that it was now immortal, for it 
could never die; and to whomsoever it might have been 
originally indebted for its power, not less sure was it that 
it was now omnipotent, for it could do all things. Thus 
alleged and thus believed the Yraibleusians, marvellous 
and sublime people! who, with all the impotence of mor¬ 
tality, have created a Government which is both immortal 
and omnipotent! 

Generally speaking, the Statue was held in great reve¬ 
rence and viewed with great admiration by the whole 
Vraibleusian people. There were a few persons, indeed, 
who asserted that the creation of such a Statue was by no 
means so mighty a business as it had been the fashion to 
suppose ; and that it was more than probable that, with 
the advantages afforded by the scientific discoveries of 
modern times, they would succeed in making a more useful 
one. This, indeed, they offered to accomplish, provided 
the present Statue were preliminarily destroyed; but as 
they were well assured that this offer would never be 
accepted, it was generally treated by those Avho refused it 
as a braggadocio. There were many also who, though 
they in general greatly admired and respected the present 
Statue, affected to believe that, though the execution was 
wonderful, and the interior machinery indeed far beyond the 
powers of the present age, nevertheless the design was in 
many parts somewhat rude, and the figure altogether far 
from being well-proportioned. Some thought the head too 
big, some too small; some that the body was dispropor¬ 
tionately little ; others, on the contrary, that it was so much 
too large that it had the appearance of being dropsical; 
others maintained that the legs were too weak for the sup- 


414 


POPANILLA. 


port of tlie whole, and that they should be rendered more 
important and prominent members of the figure ; while, on 
the contrary, there were yet others who cried out that 
really these members were already so extravagantly huge, 
so coarse, and so uugentoel, that they quite marred the 
general effect of a beautiful piece of sculpture. 

The same differeuces existed about the comparative ex¬ 
cellence of the three metals and the portions of the body 
which they respectively formed. Some admired the gold, 
and maintained that if it were not for the head the Statue 
would be utterly useless; others preferred the silver, and 
would assert that the body, which contained all the ma¬ 
chinery, must clearly be the most precious portion; while 
a third party triumphantly argued that the iron legs which 
supported both body and head must surely be the most 
valuable part, since without them the Statue must fall. 
The first party advised that in all future reparations gold 
only should be introduced; and the other parties, of course, 
recommended with equal zeal their own favourite metals. 
It is observable, however, that if, under these circumstances, 
the iron race chanced to fail in carrying their point, they 
invariably voted for gold in preference to silver. But the 
most contradictory opinions, perhaps, were those which 
were occasioned by the instruments with which the 
Statue was armed and supported. Some affected to be so 
frightened by the mere sight of the brandished sword, 
although it never moved, that they pretended it was dan¬ 
gerous to live even under the same sky with it; while 
others, treating very lightly the terrors of this warlike 
instrument, would observe that much more was really to 
be apprehended from the remarkable strength and thick¬ 
ness of the calm and peace-inspiring crosier ; and that as 
long as the Government was supported by this huge pas¬ 
toral staff nothing could prevail against it; that it could 
dare all things, and even stand without the help of its 
legs. All these various opinions at least proved that, 
although the present might not be the most miraculous 
Statue tiiat could possibly bo created, it was nevertlieless 


POPANILLA. 


415 


quite impossible ever to form one which wonld j^iease all 
parties. 

Tlie care of this wonderful Statue was entrusted to twelve 
‘ Managers,’ whose duty it was to wind-up and regulate its 
complicated machinery, and who answered for its good 
management by their heads. It was their business to 
consult the oracle upon all occasions, and by its decisions 
to administer and regulate all the affairs of the State. 
They alone were permitted to hear its voice; for the Sta¬ 
tue never spoke in public save on rare occasions, and its 
sentences were then really so extremely commonplace 
that, had it not been for the deep wisdom of its general 
conduct, the Vraibleusians would have been almost tempted 
to believe that they really might exist without the services 
of the capital member. The twelve Managers surrounded 
the Statue at a respectful distance ; their posts were the 
most distinguished in the State ; and indeed the duties at¬ 
tached to them were so numerous, so difficult, and so respon¬ 
sible, that it required no ordinary abilities to fulfil, and 
demanded no ordinary courage to aspire to, them. 

The Fantaisian Ambassador, ha\ung been presented, 
took his place on the right hand of the Statue, next to 
the Aboriginal Inhabitant, and public business then com¬ 
menced. 

There came forward a messenger, who, knocking his nose 
three times with great reverence on the floor, a knock for 
each metal of the figure, thus spoke: 

‘ 0 thou wisest and best! thou richest and mightiest f 
thou glory and admiration ! thou defence and consterna¬ 
tion ! Lo ! the King of the Korth is cutting all his subjects’ 
heads off! ’ 

This announcement produced a great sensation. The 
Marquess Moustache took snuff; the Private Secretary 
said he had long suspected that this would be the case ; and 
the Aboriginal Inhabitant remarked to Popanilla that the 
corn in the North was of an exceedingly coarse grain. 
While they w'ere making these observations the tw^elve 
Managers had assembled in deep consultation around the 


416 


POPANILLA. 


Statue, and in a very few minutes the Oracle was pre¬ 
pared. The answer was very simple, but the exordium was 
sublime. It professed that the Vraibleusian nation was the 
saviour and champion of the world; that it was the first 
principle of its policy to maintain the cause of any people 
struggling for their rights as men; and it avowed itself to 
be the grand patron of civil and religious liberty in all 
quarters of the globe. Forty-seven battalions of infantry 
and eighteen regiments of cavalry, twenty-four sail of the 
line, seventy transports, and fifteen bombketches, were 
then ordered to leave Yraibleusia for the North in less than 
sixty minutes ! 

‘ What energy ! ’ said Popanilla; ‘ what decision ! what 
rapidity of execution ! ’ 

‘Ay! ’ said the Aboriginal, smacking his thigh ; ‘ let them 
say what they like about their proportions, and mixtures, 
and metals—abstract nonsense ! No one can deny that our 
Government works well. But see ! here comes another 
messenger ! ’ 

‘ 0 thou wisest and best! thou richest and mightiest! 
thou glory and admiration ! thou defence and consterna¬ 
tion ! Lo ! the people of the South have cut their king’s 
head off! ’ 

‘ Well! I suppose that is exactly what you all want,’ said 
the innocent Popanilla. 

The Private Secretary looked mysterious, and said that 
he was not prepared to answer ; that his department never 
having been connected with this species of business, he was 
unable at the moment to give his Excellency the requisite 
mformation. At the same time, he begged to state that, 
provided anything he said should not commit him, he had 
uo objection to answer the question hypothetically. The 
A.boriginal Inhabitant said that he would have no hypo¬ 
theses or Jacobins; that he did not approve of cutting off 
kings’ heads ; and that the Vraibleusians were the most 
monarchical people in the world. So saying, he walked up, 
without any ceremony, to the chief Manager, and taking 


POPANILLA. 


417 


Lini by tlio button, conversed with him some time in an 
earnest manner, which made the stocks fall two per cent. 

The Statue ordered three divisions of the grand army 
and a battering-train of the first grade ofi’ to the South 
without the loss of a second. A palace and establishment 
were immediately directed to be prepared for the family of 
the murdered monarch, and the commander-in-chief was 
instructed to make every exertion to bring home the body 
of his Majesty embalmed. Such an immense issue of pink 
shells was occasioned by this last expedition that stocks not 
only recovered themselves, but rose considerably. 

The excitement occasioned by this last announcement 
evaporated at the sight of a third messenger. He informed 
the Statue that the Emperor of the East was unfortunately 
unable to pay the interest upon his national debt; that his 
treasury was quite empty and his resources utterly ex¬ 
hausted. He requested the assistance of the most wealthy 
and the most generous of nations; and he offered them as 
security for their advances his gold and silver mines, 
which, for the breadth of their veins and the richness of 
their ores, he said, were unequalled. He added, that the 
only reason they were unworked was the exquisite flavour 
of the water-melons in his empire, Avhicli was so delicious 
that his subjects of all classes, passing their whole day in 
devouring them, could be induced neither by force nor per¬ 
suasion to do anything else. The cause was so reasonable, 
and the security so satisfactory, that the Vraibleusian 
Government felt themselves authorised in shipping off im¬ 
mediately all the gold in the island. Pink shells abounded, 
and stocks were still higher. 

‘You have no mines in Vraibleusia, I believe?’ said 
Popanilla to the Aboriginal. 

‘ Ho ! but we have taxes.’ 

‘ Very true ! ’ said Popanilla: 

‘ I understand that a messenger has just arrived from 
the \Yest,’ said the Secretary to the Fantaisian Plenipo¬ 
tentiary. ‘ He must bring interesting intelligence from 
such interesting countries. Hext to ourselves, they aro 


418 


POPANn.LA. 


evidently the most happy, the most wealthy, the most en¬ 
lightened, and the most powerful Governments in the 
world. Although founded only last week, they already 
rank in the first class of nations. I Avill send you a little 
pamphlet to-morrow, which I have just pubhshed upon this 
subject, in which you will see that I have combated, I trust 
not unsuccessfully, the ridiculous opinions of those cautious 
statesmen who insinuate that the stability of these Govern¬ 
ments is even yet questionable.’ 

The messenger from the Republics of the West now 
prostrated himself before the Statue. He informed it that 
two parties had, unfortunately, broken out in these coun¬ 
tries, and threatened their speedy dissolution; that one 
party maintained that all human government originated in 
the wants of man; while the other party asserted that it 
originated in the desires of man. That these factions had 
become so violent and so universal that public business 
was altogether stopped, trade quite extinct, and the instal¬ 
ments due to Yraibleusia not forthcoming. Finally, he 
entreated the wisest and the best of nations to send to 
these distracted lands some discreet and trusty personages, 
well instructed in the fii’st principles of government, in 
order that they might draw up constitutions for the igno¬ 
rant and irritated multitude. 

The Private Secretary told Popanilla that this was no 
more than he had long expected; that all this would subside, 
and that he should publish a postscript to his pamphlet in a 
few days, which he begged to dedicate to him. 

A whole corps diplomatique and another shipful of 
abstract philosophers, principally Scotchmen, were imme¬ 
diately ordered off to the West; and shortly after, to 
render their first principles still more effective and their 
administrative arrangements still more influential, some 
brigades of infantry and a detachment of the guards 
followed. Free constitutions are apt to be misunderstood 
until half of the nation are bayoneted and the rest im¬ 
prisoned. 

As tips mighty Vraibleusian nation had, within the last 


POPANILLA. 


419 


half-hour, received intelligeiice from all quarters of the 
globe, and interfered in all possible affairs, civil and mili¬ 
tary, abstract, administrative, diplomatic, and financial, 
Popanilla supposed that the assembly would now break up. 
Some petty business, however, remained. War was de¬ 
clared against the Edng of Sneezeland, for presuming to 
buy pocket-handkerchiefs of another nation ; and the Em¬ 
peror of Pastilles was threatened with a bombardment for 
daring to sell his peppers to another people. There were 
also some dozen commercial treaties to be signed, or can¬ 
vassed, or cancelled; and a report having got about that 
there was a rumour that some disturbance had broken out 
in some parts unknown, a flying expedition was despatched, 
with sealed orders, to circumnavigate the globe and arrange 
affairs. By this time Popanilla thoroughly understood the 
meaning of the mysterious inscription. 

Just as the assembly was about to be dissolved another 
messenger, who, in his agitation, even forgot the accustomed 
etiquette of salutation, rushed into the presence. 

‘ 0 most mighty! Sir Bombastes Furioso, who com¬ 
manded our last expedition, having sailed, in the hurry, 
with wrong orders, has attacked our ancient ally by mis¬ 
take, and utterly destroyed him ! ’ 

Here was a pretty business for the Best and Wisest! At 
first the Managers behaved in a manner the most undiplo¬ 
matic, and quite lost their temper; they raved, they 
stormed, they contradicted each other, they contradicted 
themselves, and swore that Sir Bombastes’ head should 
answer for it. Then they subsided into sulkiness, and at 
length, beginning to suspect that the fault might ultimately 
attach only to themselves, they got frightened, and held 
frequent consultations with pale visages and quivering 
lips. After some time they thought they could do nothing 
wiser than put a good face upon the affair ; whatever might 
be the result, it was, at any rate, a victory, and a victory 
would please the vainest of nations : and so these blundering 
and blustering gentlemen determined to adopt the con¬ 
queror, whom they were at first weak enough to disclaim, 


420 


POPANILLA. 


tlien vile enougli to bully, and finally forced to reward. 
The Statue accordingly whispered a most elaborate pane¬ 
gyric on Furioso, which was of course duly delivered. The 
Admiral, who was neither a coward nor a fool, was made 
ridiculous by being described as the greatest commander 
that ever existed ; one whom Nature, in a gracious freak, 
had made to shame us little men ; a happy compound of the 
piety of Noah, the patriotism of Themistocles, the skill of 
Columbus, and the courage of Nelson ; and his exploit styled 
the most glorious and unrivalled victory that was ever 
achieved, even by the Vraibleusians ! Honours were decreed 
in profusion, a general illumination ordered for the next 
twenty nights, and ah expedition immediately despatched 
to .attack the right man. 

All this time the conquerors were in waiting in an ante¬ 
room, in great trepidation, and fully prepared to be cashiered 
or cut in quarters. They were rather surprised Avhen, 
bowing to the ground, they were saluted by some half- 
dozen lords-in-waiting as the heroes of the age, congra¬ 
tulated upon their famous achievements, and humbly re¬ 
quested to appear in the Presence. 

The warriors accordingly walked up in procession to the 
Statue, who, opening its mighty mouth, vomited forth a 
flood of ribbons, stars, and crosses, which were divided 
among the valiant band. This oral discharge the Yraibleu- 
sians called the ‘ fountain of honour.’ 

Scarcely had the mighty Furioso and his crew disap¬ 
peared than a body of individuals arrived at the top of the 
hall, and, placing themselves opposite the Managers, began 
rating them for their inefiicient administration of the island, 
and expatiated on the inconsistency of their late conduct to 
the conquering Bombastes. The Managers defended them¬ 
selves in a manner perfectly in character with their recent 
behaviour; but their opponents were not easily satisfied 
with their confused explanations and their explained con¬ 
fusions, and the speeches on both sides grew warmer. At 
length the opposition proceeded to expel the administration 
from their places by force, and an eager scuffle between tho 


POPAKILLA. 


421 


two parties now commenced. Tlie general body of specta¬ 
tors continned only to observe, and did not participate in 
tbe fray. At first, tbis melee only excited amusement; but 
as it lengthened some wisely observed that public business 
greatly suffered by these private squabbles ; and some even 
ventured to imagine that the safety of the Statue might 
be implicated by their continuance. But this last fear was 
futile. 

Popanilla asked the Private Secretary which party ho 
thought would ultimately succeed. The Private Secretar;y 
said that, if the present Managers retained their places, he 
thought that they would not go out; but if, on the other 
hand, they were expelled by the present opposition, it was 
probable that the present opposition would become Managers. 
The Aboriginal thought both parties equally incompetent; 
and told Popanilla some long stories about a person who 
was chief Manager in his youth, about five hundred years 
ago, to whom he said he was indebted for all his political 
principles, which did not surprise Popanilla. 

At this moment a noise was heard throughout the hall 
which made his Excellency believe that something un¬ 
toward had again happened, and that another conqueror by 
mistake had again arrived. A most wonderful being 
galloped up to the top of the apartment. It was half man 
and half horse. The Secretary told Popanilla that this was 
the famous Centaur Chiron; that his Horseship, having 
wearied of his ardent locality in the constellations, had 
descended some years back to the island of Yraibleusia; 
that he had commanded the armies of the nation in all the 
great wars, and had gained every battle in which he had 
ever been engaged. Chiron was no less skilful, he said, in 
civil than in military affairs; but the Vraibleusians, being 
very jealous of allowing themselves to be governed by their 
warriors, the Centaur had lately been out of employ. While 
the Secretary was giving him this information Popanilla 
perceived that the great Chiron was attacking the com¬ 
batants on both sides. The tutor of Achilles, Hercules, and 
H]neas, of course, soon succeeded in kicking them all out, 


422 


POPANILLA. 


and constituted himself chief and sole Manager of the 
Statue. Some grumbled at this autocratic conduct ‘ upon 
principle,’ but they were chiefly connections of the expelled. 
The great majority, wearied with public squabbles occa¬ 
sioned by private ends, rejoiced to see the public interest 
entrusted to an individual who had a reputation to lose. 
Intelligence of the appointment of the Centaur was speedily 
diffused throughout the island, and produced great and 
general satisfaction. There were a few, indeed, impartial 
personages, who had no great taste for Centaurs in civil 
capacities, from an apprehension that, if he could not 
succeed in persuading them by his eloquence, his Graco 
might chance to use his heels. 


CHAPTER XI. 

On the evening of his presentation day his Excellency the 
Eantaisian Ambassador and suite honoured the national 
theatre with their presence. Such a house was never 
known ! The pit was miraculously overflown before the 
doors were opened, although the proprietor did not permit 
a single private entrance. The enthusiasm was universal, 
and only twelve persons were killed. The Private Secre¬ 
tary told Popanilla, with an air of great complacency, that 
the Vraibleusian theatres were the largest in the world. 
Popanilla had little doubt of the truth of this information, 
as a long time elapsed before he could even discover the 
stage. He observed that every person in the theatre 
carried a long black glass, which he kept perpetually fixed 
to his eye. To sit in a huge room hotter than a glass-house, 
in a posture emulating the most sanctified Faquir, mth a 
throbbing head-ache, a breaking back, and twisted legs, 
with a heavy tube held over one eye, and the other covered 
with the unemployed hand, is in Vraibleusia called a public 
amusement. 

The play was by the most famous dramatist that Yrai- 



POPANILLA. 


423 


bleusia ever produced; and certainly, wlien his Excellency 
witnessed the first scenes, it was easier to imafrine that he 
was once more in his own sunset Isle of Eantaisie than in 
the railroad state of Vraibleusia: but, unfortunately, this 
evening the principal characters and scenes were omitted, 
to make room for a moving panorama, which lasted some 
hours, of the chief and most recent Vraibleusian victories. 
The audience fought their battles o’er again with great 
fervour. During the play one of the inferior actors was 
supposed to have saluted a female chorus-singer with an 
ardour which was more than theatrical, and every lady in 
the house immediately fainted; because, as the eternal 
Secretary told Popanilla, the Vraibleusians are the most 
modest and most moral nation in the world. The male 
part of the audience insisted, in indignant terms, that the 
offending performer should immediately be dismissed. In 
a few minutes he appeared upon the stage to make a most 
humble apology for an offence which he was not conscious 
of having committed; but the most moral and the most 
modest of nations was implacable, and the wretch was 
expelled. Having a large family dependent upon his exer¬ 
tions, the actor, according to a custom prevalent in Vrai- 
bleusia, went immediately and drowned himself in tlie 
nearest river. Then the ballet commenced. 

It was soon discovered that the chief dancer, a celebrated 
foreigner, who had been announced for this evening, was 
absent. The uproar was tremendous, and it was whispered 
that the house would be pulled down; because, as Popanilla 
was informed, the Vraibleusians are the most particular 
and the freest people in the world, and never will permit 
themselves to be treated with disrespect. The principal 
chandelier having been destroyed, the manager appeared, 
and regretted that Signor Zephyrino, being engaged to 
dine with a Grandee of the first class, was unable to fulfil 
his engagement. The house became frantic, and the terrified 
manager sent immediately for the Signor. The artist, after 
a proper time had elapsed, appeared with a napkin round 
his neck and a fork in his hand, with which he stood somo 


424 


POPANILLA. 


moments, until tlie uproar liad subsided, picking liis teeth. 
At length, when silence was obtained, he told them that ho 
was surprised that tlie most polished and liberal nation in 
the world should behave themselves in such a brutal and 
narrow-minded manner. He threatened them that ho 
would throw up his engagement immediately, and announce 
to all foreign parts that they were a horde of barbarians ; 
then, abusing them for a few seconds in round terms, he 
retired, amidst the cheerings of the whole house, to finish 
his wine. 

When the performances were finished the audience rose 
and joined in chorus. On Popanilla enquiring the name 
and nature of this effusion, he was told that it was the 
national air of the Isle of Fantaisie, sung in compliment to 
himself. His Excellency shrugged his shoulders and 
bowed low. 

The next morning, attended by his suite, Popanilla visited 
the most considerable public offices and manufactories in 
Hubbabub. He was received in all places with the greatest 
distinction. He was invariably welcomed either by tlio 
chiefs of the department or the proprietors themselves, and 
a sumptuous collation was prepared for him in eveiy place. 
His Excellency evinced the liveliest interest in everything 
that was pointed out to him, and instantaneously perceived 
that the Yraibleusians exceeded the rest of the world in 
manufactures and public works as much as they did in 
arms, morals, modesty, philosophy, and politics. The Pri¬ 
vate Secretary being absent upon his postscript, Popanilla 
received the most satisfactory information upon all subjects 
from the Marquess himself. Whenever he addressed any 
question to his Lordship, his noble attendant, with the 
greatest politeness, begged him to take some refreshment. 
Popanilla returned to his hotel with a great admiration of 
the manner in which refined philosophy in Yraibleusia was 
applied to the common purposes of life ; and found that he 
had that morning acquired a general knowledge of the 
chief arts and sciences, eaten some hundred sandwiches, 
and tasted as many bottles of sherry. 


POPANILLA. 


425 


CHAPTER XII. 

The most commercial nation in the world vras now busily 
preparing to diffuse the blessings of civilisation and com¬ 
petition throughout the native country of their newly- 
acquired fiiend. The greatest exporters that ever existed had 
never been acquainted with such a subject for exportation 
as the Isle of Fantaisie. There everything was wanted. It 
was not a partial demand which was to be satisfied, nor a 
particular deficiency which rvas to be supplied ; but a vast 
population was thoroughly to be furnished with every 
article which a vast population must require. From the 
manufacturer of steam-engines to the manufacturer of 
stockings, all were alike employed. There was no branch 
of trade in Vraibleusia which did not equally rejoice at this 
new opening for commercial enterprise, and which was not 
equally interested in this new theatre for Vraibleusian 
industry, Vraibleusian invention, Vraibleusian activity, and, 
above all, A^raibleusian competition. 

Day and night.the whole island was employed in pre¬ 
paring for the great fleet and in huzzaing Popanilla. 
When at home, every ten minut'^s he was obliged to appear 
in the balcony, and then, with hand on heart and hat in 
hand, ah ! that bow ! that perpetual motion of popularity ! 
If a man love ease, let him be most unpopular. The Ma¬ 
nagers did the impossible to assist and advance the in¬ 
tercourse between the two nations. They behaved in a 
liberal and enlightened manner, and a deputation of liberal 
and enlightened merchants consequently Avaited upon them 
Avitli a A"ote of thanks. They issued so many pink shells 
that the price of the public funds Avas doubled, and affairs 
arranged so skilfully that money Avas universally declared 
to be Avorth nothing, so that every one in the island, from 
the Premier down to the Mendicant Avhom the lecture-lov¬ 
ing Skindeep threatened Avith the bastinado, Avas enabled 
to participate, in some degree, in the approaching v^enture, 
if AA^e should use so dubious a term in speaking of profits so 
certain. 


426 


POPANILLA. 


Compared with the Fantaisian connection, the whole 
commerce of the world appeared to the Yraibleusians a 
retail business. All other customers were neglected or 
discarded, and each individual seemed to concentrate his 
resources to supply the wants of a country where they 
dance by moonlight, live on fruit, and sleep on flowers. At 
length the flrst fleet of five hundred sail, laden with 
wonderful specimens of Vraibleusian mechanism, and in¬ 
numerable bales of Vraibleusian manufactures ; articles 
raw and refined, goods dry and damp, wholesale and retail; 
silks and woollen cloths ; cottons, cutlery, and camlets ; 
flannels and ladies’ albums; under waistcoats, kid gloves, en¬ 
gravings', coats, cloaks, and ottomans; lamps and looking- 
glasses ; sofas, round tables, equipages, and scent-bottles; 
fans and tissue-flowers; porcelain, poetry, novels, news¬ 
papers, and cookery books ; bear’s-grease, blue pills, and 
bijouterie ; arms, beards, poodles, pages, mustachios, court- 
guides, and bon-bons; music, pictures, ladies’ maids, scrap¬ 
books, buckles, boxing-gloves, guitars, and snuff-boxes; 
together with a company of opera-singers, a band of come¬ 
dians, a popular preacher, some quacks, lecturers, artists, 
and hterary gentlemen, principally sketch-book men, 
quitted, one day,, with a favourable wind, and amid the 
exultation of the inhabitants, the port of Hubbabub ! 

When his Excellency Prince Popanilla heard of the 
contents of this stupendous cargo, notwithstanding his 
implicit confidence in the superior genius and useful ^ow- 
ledge of the Vraibleusians, he could not refrain from ex¬ 
pressing a doubt whether, in the present undeveloped 
state of his native land, any returns could be made pro¬ 
portionate to so curious and elaborate an importation; but 
whenever he ventured to intimate his opinion to any of 
the most commercial nation in the world he was only 
listened to with an incredulous smile which seemed to 
pity his inexperience, or told, with an air of profound 
self-complacency, that in Fantaisie ‘ there must be great 
resources.’ 

In the meantime, pubhc companies were formed for 


l^OPANILLA. 


427 


working the mines, colonizing the waste lands, and cutting 
the coral rocks of the Indian Isle, of all which associations 
Popanilla was chosen Director by acclamation. These, 
however, it must be confessed, were speculations of a some¬ 
what doubtful nature ; but the Branch Bank Society of the 
Isle of Fantaisie really held out flattering prospects. 

When the fleet had sailed they gave Popanilla a public 
dinner. It was attended by all the principal men in the 
island, and he made a speech, which was received in a 
rather different manner than was his sunset oration by the 
monarch whom he now represented. Fantaisie and its 
accomplished Envoy.were at the same time the highest 
and the universal fashion. The ladies sang a la Syrene, 
dressed their hair d la Mermede, and themselves d la Fan- 
tastique\ which, by-the-bye, was not new ; and the gentle¬ 
men wore boa-constrictor cravats and waltzed d la mer 
Indieime —a title probably suggested by a remembrance of 
the dangers of the sea. 

It was soon discovered that, without taking into con¬ 
sideration the average annual advantages which would 
necessarily spring from their new connection, the profits 
which must accrue upon the present expedition alone had 
already doubled the capital of the island. Everybody in 
Vraibleusia had either made a fortune, or laid the founda¬ 
tion of one. The penniless had become prosperous, and 
the principal merchants and manufacturers, having realised 
large capitals, retired from business. But the colossal 
fortunes were made by the gentlemen who had assisted the 
administration in raising the price of the public funds and 
in managing the issues of the pink shells. The effect of 
this immense increase of the national wealth and of this 
creation of new and powerful classes of society was speedily 
felt. Great moves to the westward were perpetual, and a 
variety of sumptuous squares and streets were immediately 
run up in that chosen laud. Butlers were at a premium ; 
coach-makers never slept; card-engravers, having exhausted 
' copper, had recourse to steel; and the demand for arms at 
the Heralds’ College was so great that even tlie mystical 


428 


POPANILLA. 


genius of Garter was exhausted, and hostile meetings wero 
commenced between the junior members of some ancient 
families, to whom the same crest had been unwittingly ap¬ 
portioned ; but, the seconds interfering, they discovered 
themselves to be relations. All the eldest sons were im¬ 
mediately to get into Parliament, and all the younger ones 
as quickly into the Guards ; and the simple Pantaisian En¬ 
voy, who had the peculiar felicity of taking everything an 
])ied du lettre, made a calculation that, if these arrange¬ 
ments were duly effected, in a short time the Yraibleusian 
representatives would exceed the Yraibleusian represented ; 
and that there would be at least three officers in the Yrai¬ 
bleusian Guards to every private. Judging from the beards 
and mustachios which now abounded, this great result was 
near at hand. With the snub nose which is the character¬ 
istic of the millionaires, these appendages produce a pleasing 
effect. 

When the excitement had a little subsided ; when their 
mighty mansions were magnificently furnished ; when their 
bright equipages were fairly launched, and the due comple¬ 
ment of their liveried retainers perfected ; when, in short, 
they had imitated the aristocracy in every point in which 
wealth could rival blood : then the new people discovered 
with dismay that one thing was yet wanting, which treasure 
could not purchase, and which the wit of others could not 
supply—Manner. In homely phrase, the millionaires did 
not know how to behave themselves. Accustomed to the 
counting-house, the factory, or the exchange, they looked 
queer in saloons, and said ‘ Sir ! ’ when they addressed you ; 
and seemed stiff, and hard, and hot. Then the solecisms 
they committed in more formal society, oh ! they were out¬ 
rageous ; and a leading article in an eminent journal was 
actually written upon the subject. I dare not write the 
deeds they did ; but it’was whispered that ’wdien they drank 
wine they filled tlieir glasses to the very brim. All this 
delighted the old class, who were as envious of their riches 
as the new people were emulous of their style. 

In any other country except Yraibleusia persons so 


POPANILLA. 


429 


situated would have consoled themselves for their disagree¬ 
able position by a consciousness that their posterity 'would 
not be annoyed by the same deficiencies ; but the wonder¬ 
ful Vraibleusian people resembled no other, even in their 
failings. They determined to acquire in a day that which 
had hitherto been deemed the gradual consequence of 
tedious education. 

A ‘ Society for the Diffusion of Fashionable Knowledge ’ 
was announced ; the Millionaires looked triumphantly mys¬ 
terious, the aristocrats quizzed. The object of the societ}^ is 
intimated by its title ; and the method by 'which its insti- 
tutors proposed to attain this object w^as the periodical 
publication of pamphlets, under tlie superintendence of a 
competent committee. The first treatise appeared : its 
subject was nonchalance. It instructed its students ever 
to appear inattentive in the society of men, and heartless 
'when they conversed 'with '^vomen. It taught them not to 
understand a man if he were witty ; to misunderstand him 
it he W'ere eloquent; to yawn or stare if he chanced to 
elevate his voice, or presumed to ruffle the placidity of the 
social calm by addressing his fello'w-creatures with teeth 
unparted. Excellence 'was never to be recognised, but 
only disparaged with a look: an opinion or a sentiment, 
and the nonchalant was lost for ever. For these, he 'W’aa 
to substitute a smile like a damp sunbeam, a moderate curl of 
the upper lip, and the all-speaking and perpetual shrug of 
the shoulders. By a skilful management of these qualities 
it was shown to be easy to ruin another’s reputation and 
ensure your own without ever opening your mouth. To 
woman, this exquisite treatise said much in few words : 

‘ Listlessness, listlessness, listlessness,’ 'was the edict by 
Avhich the most beautiful 'works of nature were to be regu¬ 
lated, who are only truly charming -svhen they make us 
feel and feel themselves. ‘ Listlessness, listlessness, list- 
lessiiess; ’ for when you choose not to be listless, the con¬ 
trast is so striking that the triumph must be complete. 

The treatise said much more, which I shall omit. It 
forgot, however, to remark that this vaunted nonchalance 


430 


POPANILLA. 


may be the offspring of tbe most contemptible and tbe most 
odious of passions: and that while it may be exceedingly 
refined to appear uninterested when others are interested, 
to witness excellence without emotion, and to listen to 
genius without animation, the heart of the Insensible may 
as often be inflamed by Envy as inspired by Fashion. 

Dissertations ‘ On leaving cards,’ ‘ On cutting intimate 
friends,’ ‘ On cravats,’ On dinner courses,’ ‘ On poor rela¬ 
tions,’ ‘ On bores,’ ‘ On Hons,’ were announced as speedily 
to appear. In the meantime, the Essay on Nonchalance 
produced the best effects. A ci-devant stock-broker cut a 
Duke dead at his club the day after its publication; and 
his daughter yawned while his Grace’s eldest son, the 
Marquess, made her an offer as she was singing ‘ Di tanti 
palpiti.’ The aristocrats got a little frightened, and when 
an eminent hop-merchant and his lady had asked a dozen 
Countesses to dinner, and forgot to be at home to receive 
them, the old class left off quizzing. 

The pamphlets, however, continued issuing forth, and 
the new people advanced at a rate which was awful. They 
actually began to originate some ideas of their own, and 
there was a whisper among the leaders of voting the aris¬ 
tocrats old-fashioned. The Diffusion Society now caused 
these exalted personages great anxiety and uneasiness. 
They argued that Fashion was a relative quality; that it 
was quite impossible, and not to be expected, that all people 
were to aspire to be fashionable; that it was not in the 
nature of things, and that, if it were, society could not 
exist; that the more their imitators advanced the more 
they should baffle their imitations ; that a first and fashion¬ 
able class was a necessary consequence of the organisation 
of man ; and that a line of demarcation would for ever be 
drawn between them and the other islanders. The warmth 
and eagerness with which they maintained and promul¬ 
gated their opinions might have tempted, however, an 
impartial person to suspect that they secretly entertained 
some doubts of their truth and soundness. 

On the other hand, the other party maintained that ' 


POPANTLLA. 


431 


Fashion was a positive quality ; that the moment a person 
obtained a certain degree of refinement he or she became, 
in fact and essentially, fashionable ; that the views of the 
old class were nnphilosophical and illiberal, and unworthy 
of an enlightened age; that men are equal, and that every¬ 
thing is open to everybody ; and that when we take into 
consideration the nature of man, the origin of society, 
and a few other things, and duly consider the constant 
inclination and progression towards perfection which man¬ 
kind evince, there was no reason why, in the course of 
time, the whole nation should not go to Almack’s on the 
same night. 

At this moment of drubt and dispute the Government 
of Vraibleusia, with that spirit of conciliation and liberality 
and that perfect wisdom for which it had been long cele¬ 
brated, caring very little for the old class, whose interest, 
it well knew, was to support it, and being exceedingly 
desirous of engaging the affections of the new race, 
declared in their favour; and acting upon that sublime 
scale of measures- for which this great nation has always 
been so famous, the Statue issued an edict that a new lite¬ 
rature should be invented, in order at once to complete the 
education of the Millionaires and the triumph of the 
Romantic over the Classic School of Manners. 

The most eminent writers were, as usual, in the pay of 
the Government, and Burlington, a Tale of Fashionable 
Life, in three volumes post octavo, was sent forth. Two 
or three similar works, bearing titles equally euphonious 
and aristocratic, were published daily; and so exquisite 
was the style of these productions, so naturally arti¬ 
ficial the construction of their plots, and so admirably 
inventive the conception of their characters, that many 
who had been repulsed by the somewhat abstract matter 
and arid style of the treatises, seduced by the interest of a 
story, and by the dazzling delicacies of a charming style, 
really now picked up a considerable quantity of very useful 
knowledge; so that when the delighted students had eaten 
some fifty or sixty imaginary dinners in my lord’s dining- 


4S2 


POPANILLA. 


room, and whirled some fifty or sixty imaginai’y waltzes in 
my lady’s dancing-room, there was scarcely a brute left 
among the whole Millionaires. But what produced the 
most beneficial effects on the new people, and excited the 
greatest indignation and despair among the old class, were 
some volumes which the Government, with shocking 
Machiavelism, bribed some needy scions of nobility to 
scribble, and which revealed certain secrets vainly believed 
to be quite sacred and inviolable. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Shoetly after the sailing of the great fleet the Private 
Secretary engaged in a speculation which was rather more 
successful than any one contained in his pamphlet on ‘ The 
Present State of the Western Republics.’ 

One morning, as he and Popanilla were walking on a 
quay, and deliberating on the clauses of the projected com¬ 
mercial treaty between Vraibleusia and Pantaisie, the 
Secretary suddenly stopped, as if he had seen his father’s 
ghost or lost the thread of his argument, and asked Popa¬ 
nilla, with an air of suppressed agitation, whether he 
observed anything in the distance. Popanilla, Avho, like all 
savages, was long-sighted, applying to his eye the glass 
which, in conformity to the custom of the country, he 
always wore round his neck, confessed that he saw nothing. 
The Secretary, who had never unfixed his glass nor moved 
a step since he asked the question, at length, by pointing 
with his finger, attracted Popanilla’s attention to what his 
Excellency conceived to be a porpoise bobbing up and down 
in the waves. The Secretary, hoAvever, was not of the 
same opinion as the Ambassador. He was not very com¬ 
municative, indeed, as to his own opinion upon this grave 
subject, but he talked of making fiirther observations when 
the tide went down; and was so listless, abstracted, and 
absent, during the rest of their conversation, that it soon 
ceased, and they speedily parted. 



rOPANILLA. 


433 


The next day, wlien Popanilla read the morning papers, 
a feat ■which he regularly performed, for spelling the news¬ 
paper was quite delicious to one who had so recently 
learned to read, he found that they spoke of nothing hut 
of the discovery of a new island, information of whioh had 
been received by the Government only the pi-eceding night. 
The Fantaisian Ambassador turned quite pale, and for the 
first time in his life experienced the passion of jealousy, 
the green-eyed monster, so called from only being experi¬ 
enced by green-horns. Already the prominent state he 
represented seemed to retire to the background. He did 
not doubt that the Vraibleusians were the most capricious 
as well as the most commercial nation in the world. His 
reign was . e-vddently over. The new island would send 
forth a Prince still more popular. His allowance of pink 
shells would be gradually reduced, and finally withdrawn. 
His doubts, also, as to the success of the recent expedition 
to Fantaisie began to revive. His rising reminiscences of 
his native land, which, with the joint assistance of popu¬ 
larity and philosophy, he had hitherto succeeded in stifling, 
were indeed awkward. He could not conceive bis mistress 
■vv'ith a page and a poodle. He feared much that the cargo 
was not well assorted. Popanilla determined to enquire 
after his canoe. 

His courage, however, was ga’eatly reassured when, on 
reading the second edition, he learned that the new island 
was not of considerable size, though most eligibly situate; 
and, moreover, that it was perfectly void of inhabitants. 
When the third edition Avas published he found, to his 
surprise, that the Private Secretary was the discoverer of 
this opposition island. This puzzled the Plenipotentiary 
greatly. He read on ; he found that this acquisition, upon 
Avhich all Vraibleusia Avas congratulated in such glowing 
terms by all its journals, actually produced nothing. His 
Excellency began to breathe ; another paragraph, and he 
found that the rival island Avas, a rock ! He remembered 
tlie porpoise of yesterday. The island certainly could not 
bo very large, even at low Avater. Popanilla once moro 


434 


POPAlfILLA. 


felt like a Prince: he defied all the discoverers that could 
ever exist. He thought of the great resources of the great 
country he represented with proud satisfaction. He waited 
with easy confidence the return of the fleet which had 
carried out the most judicious assortment with which he 
had ever been acquainted to the readiest market of which 
he had any knowledge. He had no doubt his mistress 
would look most charmingly in a barege. Popanilla 
determined to present his canoe to the National Museum. 

Although his Excellency had existed in the highest state 
of astonishment during his whole mission to Yraibleusia, it 
must be confessed, now that he understood his companion’s 
question of yesterday, he particularly stared. His wonder 
was not decreased in the evening, when the ‘ Grovernment 
Gazette ’ appeared. It contained an order for the imme¬ 
diate fortification of the new island by the most skilful 
engineers, without estimates. A strong garrison was in¬ 
stantly embarked. A Governor, and a Deputy-Governor, 
and Storekeepers, more plentiful than stores, were to ac¬ 
company them. The Private Secretary went out as Presi¬ 
dent of Council. A Bishop was promised ; and a complete 
Court of Judicature, Chancery, King’s Bench, Common 
Pleas, and Exchequer, were to be ofi* the next week. It is 
only due to the characters of courtiers, who are so often 
reproached with ingratitude to their patrons, to record 
that the Private Secretary, in the most delicate manner, 
placed at the disposal of his former employer, the Marquess 
Moustache, the important office of Agent for the Indemnity 
Claims of the original Inhabitants of the Island ; the post 
being a sinecure, the income being considerable, and local 
attendance being unnecessary, the noble Lord, in a manner 
equally delicate, appointed himself. 

‘ Upon what system,’ one day enquired that unwearied 
poHtical student, the Eantaisian Ambassador, of his old 
friend Skindeep, ‘ does your Government surround a small 
rock in the middle of the sea with fortifications, and cram 
it full of clerks, soldiers, lawyers, and priests ? ’ 

‘ Why, really, your Excellency, I am the last man in the 


POPANILLA. 


435 


■world to answer questions ; but I believe we call it the 
Colonial System ! ’ 

Before the President, and Governor, and Deputy-Go¬ 
vernor, and Storekeepers had embarked, the Vraibleusian 
journals, who thought that the public had been satiated 
with congratulations on the Colonial System, detected that 
the present colony was a job. Their reasoning was so con¬ 
vincing, and their denunciations so impressive, that the 
Managers got frightened, and cut off one of the Deputy- 
Storekeepers. The President of Council now got more 
frightened than the Managers. He was one of those men 
who think that the world can be saved by writing a pam¬ 
phlet. A pamphlet accordingly appeared upon the subject 
of the new colony. The writer showed that the debateable 
land was the most valuable acquisition ever attained by a 
nation famous for their acquisitions ; that there was a spring 
of water in the middle of the rock of a remarkable fresh¬ 
ness, and which was never dry except during the summer 
and the earlier winter months ; that all our outward-bound 
ships would experience infinite benefit from this fresh 
water; that the scurvy would therefore disappear from the 
service; and that the naval ■victories which the Vraibleu- 
sians would gain in future wars would consequently bo 
occasioned by the present colony. Ho one could mistake 
the felicitous reasoning of the author of ‘ The Present State 
of the Western Bepublics !’ 

About this time Popanilla fell ill. He lost his appetite 
and his spirits, and his digestion was sadly disordered. His 
friends endeavoured to console him by telling him that 
dyspepsia was the national disease of Vraibleusia; that its 
connection with civil and religious liberty was indissoluble ; 
that every man, woman, and child above -fifteen in the 
island was a martyr to it; that it was occasioned by their 
rapid mode of despatching their meals, which again was 
occasioned by the little time which the most active nation 
in the world could afford to bestow upon such a losing 
busiuess as eating. 

' All this was no consolation to a man who had lost his 


436 


rOPA^'ILLA. 


appetite; arid so Popanilla sent for a gentleman wlio, he 
was told, was the most eminent ph^^sician in the island. 
The most eminent ])hysician, when he arrived, ivoiild not 
listen to a single syllable that his patient wished to address 
to him. He told Popanilla that his disorder was ‘de¬ 
cidedly liver;’ that it was occasioned by his eating his 
meat before his bread instead of after it, and drinking at 
the end of the first course instead of the beginning of the 
second; that he had only to correct these ruinous habits, 
and that he would then regain his tone. 

Popanilla observed the instructions of the eminent phy¬ 
sician to the very letter. He invariably eat his bread before 
his meat, and watched the placing of the first dish of the 
second course upon the table ere he ventured to refresh 
himself with any liquid. At the end of a week he was 
infinitely worse. 

He now called in a gentleman who was recommended to 
him as the most celebrated practitioner in all Yraibleusia. 
The most celebrated practitioner listened with gTeat atten¬ 
tion to every particular that his patient had to state, but 
never condescended to open his own mouth. Popanilla was 
delighted, and revenged himself for the irritability of the 
eminent physician. After two more visits, the most cele¬ 
brated practitioner told Popanilla that his disorder was 
‘ unquestionably nervous ; ’ that he had over-excited himself 
by talking too much; that in future he must count five 
l^etween each word he uttered, never ask any questions, 
and avoid society ; that is, never stay at an evening party 
on any consideration later than twenty-two minutes past 
two, and never be induced by any j^ersuasion to dine out 
more than once on the same day. The most celebrated 
practitioner added that he had onlj’ to observe these regu¬ 
lations, and that he would speedily recoA^er his energy. 

Popanilla never asked a question for a Avhole Aveek, and 
Skindeep never kneAV him more delightful. He not only 
counted five, but ten, between every Avord he uttered ; and 
determining that his cure should not be delayed, AAdienever 
he had nobody to speak to he continued counting. In a 


rOPANILLA. 


437 


fV3W days tliis solitary computation brought on a slow 
fever. 

He now determined to have a consultation between the 
most eminent physician and the most celebrated practi¬ 
tioner. It was delightful to witness the meeting of these 
great men. Hot a shade of jealousy dimmed the sunshine 
of their countenances. After a consultation, they agreed 
that Popanilla’s disorder was neither ‘ liver,’ nor ‘ nervous,’ 
but ‘ mind : ’ that he had done too much ; that he had over- 
woi’ked his brain ; that he must take more exercise; that 
he must breathe more air; that he must have relaxation ; 
that he must have change of scene. 

‘ Where shall I go ? ’ was the first question which Po- 
panilla had sent forth for a fortnight, and it was addressed 
to Skindeep. 

‘ Peally, your Excellency, I am the last man in the world 
to answer questions ; but the place which is generally fre¬ 
quented by us when we are suffering from your complaint 
is Blunderland.’ 

‘ Well, then, to Blunderland let us go ! ’ 

Shortly before Popanilla’s illness he had been elected a 
member of the Vraibleusian Horticultural Society, and one 
evening he had endeavoured to amuse himself by reading 
the following Chapter on Fruit. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

That a taste for fruit is inherent in man is an opinion 
which is sanctioned by the conduct of man in all ages and 
in all countries. While some nations have considered it 
profiination or pollution to nourish themselves with flesh 
or solace themselves with fish, while almost every member 
of the animal creation has in turn been considered either 
sacred or unclean, mankind, in all climes and in all coun¬ 
tries, the Hindoo and the Hebrew, the Egyptian and the 
Greek, the Roman and the Frank, have, in some degree, 
made good their boastful claim to reason, by universally 




438 


POPANILLA. 


feeding upon tliose delightful productions of l^ature which 
are nourished with the dews of heaven, and which live for 
ever in its breath. 

And, indeed, when we consider how exceedingly refresh¬ 
ing at all times is the flavour of fruit; how very natural, 
and, in a manner, born in him, is man’s inclination for it; 
how little it is calculated to pall upon his senses; and how 
conducive, when not eaten to excess, it is to his health, as 
well as to his pleasure ; we must not be surprised that a 
conviction of its excellence should have been one of those 
few subjects on which men have never disagreed. 

Tliat some countries are more favoured in their fruit than 
others is a fact so notorious that its notice is unnecessary ; 
but we are not therefore to suppose that their appetite for 
it is more keen than the appetite of other nations for their 
fruit who live in less genial climes. Indeed, if we were 
nob led to believe that all nations are inspired by an equal 
love for this production, it might occasionally be suspected 
that some of those nations who are least skilful as horticul¬ 
turists evince a greater passion for their inferior growths 
than more fortunate people for their choicer produce. The 
effects of bad fruit, however, upon the constitution, and 
consequently upon the national character, are so injurious 
that every liberal man must regret that any people, either 
from ignorance or obligation, should be forced to have re¬ 
course to anything so fatal, and must feel that it is the 
duty of everyone who professes to be a philanthropist to 
propagate and encourage a taste for good fruit throughout 
all countries of the globe. 

A vast number of centuries before Popanilla had the for¬ 
tune to lose his mistress’s lock of hair, and consequently to 
become an ambassador to Yraibleusia, the inhabitants of 
that island, then scarcely more civihsed than their new 
allies of Fantaisie were at present, suffered very consider¬ 
ably from the trash which they devoured, from that innate 
taste for fruit already noticed. In fact, although there 
are antiquaries who pretend that the Yraibleusians pos¬ 
sessed some of the species of wild plums and apples even 


POPANILLA. 


439 


at tliat early period, the majority of enquirers are disposed 
to believe that their desserts were solely confined to the 
wildest berries, horse-chestnuts, and acorns. 

A tradition runs, that while they were committing these 
abominations a ship, one of the first ships that had ever 
touched at the island, arrived at the present port of Hub- 
babub, then a spacious and shipless bay. The master of 
the vessel, on being brought before the King (for the story 
I am recording happened long before the construction of 
the miraculous Statue), presented, with his right hand, to 
his Majesty, a small pyramidal substance of a golden hue, 
which seemed to spring out of green and purple leaves. 
His Majesty did not exactly understand the intention of 
this ceremony; but of course, like a true legitimate, con¬ 
strued it into a symbol of homage. Ho sooner had the 
King brought the unknown substance near to his eyes, with 
the intention of scrutinising its nature, than the fragrance 
was so delightful that by mistake he applied it to his 
mouth. The King only took one mouthful, and then, with 
a cry of rapture,- instantly handed the delicacy to his 
favourite, who, to the great mortification of the Secretary 
of State, finished it. The stranger, however, immediately 
supplied the surrounding courtiers from a basket which 
was slung on his left arm ; and no sooner had they all tasted 
his gift than they fell upon their knees to worship him, 
vowing that the distributor of such delight must be more 
than man. If this avowal be considered absurd and extra¬ 
ordinary in this present age of philosophy, we must not 
forget to make due allowance for the palates of individua^ls 
who, having been so long accustomed merely to horse- 
chestnuts and acorns, suddenly, for the first time in their 
lives, tasted Pine-apple. 

The stranger, with an air of great humility, disclaimed 
their proffered adoration, and told them that, far from being 
superior to common mortals, ho was, on the contrary, one 
of the lowliest of the human race ; in fact, he did not wish 
to conceal it; in spite of his vessel and his attendants, he 
was merely a market-gardener on a great scale. This 


440 


rOPANILLA. 


beautiful fruit be bad recently discovered in tbe East, to 
'svbicb quarter of tbe world be annually travelled in order 
to obtain a suflB.cient quantity to supply tbe great Western 
liemispbere, (d wbicb be bimself was a native. Accident 
liad driven bim, witb one of bis ships, into tbe Island of 
Vraibleusia; and, as tbe islanders appeared to be pleased 
witb bis cargo, be said tbat be should have great pleasure 
in supplying them at present and receiving their orders for 
the future. 

Tbe proposition was greeted witb enthusiasm. Tbe King 
immediately entered into a contract witb tbe market-gar¬ 
dener on bis own terms. Tbe sale, or cultivation, or even 
tbe eating of all other fruits was declared bigb-treason, 
and pine-apple, for weighty reasons duly recited in tbe 
royal proclamation, announced as tbe established fruit of 
the realm. Tbe cargo, under tbe superintendence of some 
of tbe most trusty of tbe crew, was unshipped for tbe im¬ 
mediate supply of tbe island ; and the merchant and bis 
customers parted, mutually delighted and mutually profited. 

Time flew on. Tbe civilisation of Vraibleusia was pro¬ 
gressive, as civibsation always is; and the taste for pine¬ 
apples ever on tbe increase, as tbe taste for pine-apples 
ever should be. Tbe supply was regular and excellent, 
tbe prices reasonable, and tbe tradesmen civil. They, of 
course, bad not failed to advance in fair proportion witb 
the national prosperity. Their numbers bad much in¬ 
creased as well as their customers. Fresh agents arrived 
witb every fresh cargo. They bad long quitted tbe stalls 
with wbicb they bad been contented on their first settle¬ 
ment in tbe island, and now were the dapper owners of 
neat depots in all parts of tbe kingdom where depots could 
find customers. 

A few more centuries, and affairs began to change. All 
that I have related as matter of fact, and wbicb certainly 
is not better authenticated than many other things tbat 
happened two or three thousand years ago, wbicb, how¬ 
ever, tbe most sceptical will not presume to maintain did 
not take place, was treated as tbe most idle and ridiculous 
fable by the dealers in pine-apples themselves. They said 


rOPANILLA. 


441 


tliat they knew notliing about a market-gardener ; that 
they were, and had always been, the subjects of the greatest 
Prince in the world, compared with whom all other 
crowned heads ranked merely as subjects did with their 
immediate sovereigns. This Prince, they said, lived in the 
most delicious region in the world, and the fruit which 
they imported could only bo procured from his private 
gardens, where it sprang from one of the trees that had 
bloomed in the gardens of the Hesperides. The Vrai- 
bleusians were at first a little surprised at this information, 
but the old tradition of the market-gardener was certainly 
an improbable one ; and the excellence of the fruit and the 
importance assumed by those who supplied it were deemed 
exceedingly good evidence of the truth of the present story. 
When the dealers had repeated their new tale for a certain 
number of years, there was not an individual m the island 
who in the slightest degree suspected its veracity. Ono 
more century, and no person had ever heard that any sus¬ 
picions had ever existed. 

The immediate agents of the Prince of the World could, 
of course, be no common personages ; and the servants of 
the gardener, who some centuries before had meekly dis¬ 
claimed the proffered reverence of his delighted customers, 
now insisted upon constant adoration from every eater of 
pine-apples in the island. In spite, however, of the arro¬ 
gance of the dealers, of their refusal to be responsible to 
the laws of the country in which they lived, and of the 
universal precedence which, on all occasions, was claimed 
even by the shop-boys, so decided was the taste which the 
Yraibleusians had acquired for pine-apples that there is 
little doubt that, had the dealers in this delicious fruit been 
contented with the respect and influence and profit which 
were the consequences of their vocation, the Vraibleusians 
Avould never have presumed to have grumbled at their 
arrogance or to have questioned their privileges. But the 
agents, wearied of the limited sphere to which their exer¬ 
tions were confined, and encouraged by the success which 
every new claim and pretence on their part invariably 


442 


POPANILLA. 


experienced, began to evince an inclination to interfere in 
other afiairs besides those of fruit, and even expressed 
their wilUngness to undertake no less an ofiB.ce than the 
management of the Statue. 

A century or two were solely occupied by conflicts occa¬ 
sioned by the unreasonable ambition of these dealers in 
pine-apples. Such great pohtical effects could be produced 
by men apparently so unconnected with politics as market- 
gardeners ! Ever supported by the lower ranks, whom 
they supplied with fruit of the most exquisite flavour with¬ 
out charge, they were, for a long time, often the successful 
opponents, always the formidable adversaries, of the Vrai- 
bleusian aristocracy, who were the objects of their envy 
and the victims of their rapaciousness. The Government 
at last, by a vigorous effort, triumphed. In spite of the 
wishes of the majority of the nation, the whole of the 
dealers were one day expelled the island, and the Managers 
of the Statue immediately took possession of their establish¬ 
ments. 

By distributing the stock of fruit which was on hand 
liberally, the Government, for a short time, reconciled the 
people to the change; but as their warehouses became daily 
less furnished they were daily reminded that, unless some 
system were soon adopted, the Islanders must be deprived 
of a luxury to which they had been so long accustomed 
that its indulgence had, in fact, become a second nature. 
No one of the managers had the hardihood to propose a 
recurrence to horse-chestnuts. Pride and fear alike forbade 
a return to their old purveyor. Other fruits there were 
which, in spite of the contract with the market-gardener, 
had at various times been secretly introduced into the 
island; but they had never greatly flourished, and the 
Statue was loth to recommend to the notice of his subjects 
productions an indulgence in which, through the instiga¬ 
tion of the recently-expelled agents, it had so often de¬ 
nounced as detrimental to the health, and had so often 
discouraged by the severest punishments. 

At this difficult and delicate crisis, when even expedients 


POPANILLA. 


443 


seemed exliausted and statesmen were at fault, the genius 
of an individual ofiered a substitute. An inventive mind 
discovered the power of propagating suckers. The expelled 
dealers had either been ignorant of this power, or had con¬ 
cealed their knowledge of it. They ever maintained that it 
Avas impossible for pine-apples to grow except in one spot, 
and that the whole earth must be supjDlied from the gardens 
of the palace of the Prince of the World. Now, the Vrai- 
bleusians were flattered Avith the patriotic fancy of eating 
pine-apples of a home-growth ; and the blessed fortune of 
that nation, Avhich did not depend for their supply of fruit 
upon a foreign country, was eagerly expatiated on. Secure 
from extortion and independent of caprice, the Yraibleu- 
sians were no longer to be insulted by the presence of 
foreigners ; who, while they violated their laws Avith im¬ 
punity, referred the Vraibleusians, when injured and com¬ 
plaining, to a foreign master. 

No doubt this appeal to the patriotism, and the common 
sense, and the vanity of the nation would have been suc¬ 
cessful had not the produce of the suckers been both 
inferior in size and deficient in flavour. The Vraibleusians 
tasted and shook their heads. The supply, too, was as 
imperfect as the article; for the GoA'ernment gardeners 
Avere but sorry horticulturists, and were ever making 
experiments and alterations in their modes of culture. The 
article was scarce, though the law had decreed it universal; 
and the Vraibleusians were obliged to feed upon fruit which 
they considered at the same time both poor and expensive. 
They protested as strongly against the present system as 
its promulgators had protested against the former one, 
and they revenged themselves for their grievances by break¬ 
ing the shop-windows. 

As any result was preferable, in the view of the Statue, 
to the re-introduction of foreign fruit and foreign agents, 
and as the Managers considered it highly important that 
an indissoluble connection should in future exist between 
the Government and so influential and profitable a branch 
of trade, they determined to adopt the most -vigorous raea- 


444 


POPAXILLA. 


siires to infuse a taste for suckers in the discontentel popu¬ 
lace. But the eating of fruit being clearly a matter of 
taste, it is evidently a habit which should rather be 
encouraged by a plentiful supply of exquisite produce than 
enforced by the introduction of burning and bayonets. The 
consequences of the strong measures of the Government 
were universal discontent and partial rebellion. The 
Islanders, foolishly ascribing the miseries which they en¬ 
dured, not so much to the folly of the Government as to 
the particular fruit through which the dissensions had 
originated, began to entertain a disgust for pine-apples 
altogether, and to sicken at the very mention of that 
production which had once occasioned them so much 
pleasure, and which had once commanded such decided 
admiration. They universally agreed that there were many 
other fruits in the world besides Pine-apple which had 
been too long neglected. One dilated on the ricli flavour 
of Melon ; another panegyrised Pumpkin, and offered to 
make up by quantity for any slight deficiency in g6ut\ 
Cherries were not without their advocates ; Strawberries 
were not forgotten. One maintained that the Fig had 
been pointed out for the established fruit of all countries ; 
while another asked, with a reeling eye, whether they need 
go far to seek when a God had condescended to preside 
over the Grape ! In short, there was not a fruit which 
flourishes that did not find its votaries. Strange to say, 
another foreign product, imported from a neighbouring 
country famous for its barrenness, counted the most; and 
the fruit faction which chiefly frightened the Yraibleusian 
Government was an acid set, who crammed themseU’es 
witli Crab-apples. 

It was this party which first seriously and practically 
conceived the idea of utterly abolishing the ancient custom 
of eatmg pine-apples. While they themselves professed to 
devour no other fruit save crabs, they at the same time 
preached the doctrine of an universal fruit toleration, wdiich 
they showed would be the necessary and natural conse¬ 
quence of the destruction of the old monopoly. Influenced 


POPANILLA. 


445 


by tllese representations, tbe great body of tne people 
openly joined tbe Crab-apple men in tlieir open attacks. 
The minority, who still retained a taste for pines, did 
not yield without an arduous though ineffectual struggle. 
During the riots occasioned by this rebellion the Hall of 
Audience was broken open, and the miraculous Statue, 
which was reputed to have a great passion for pine-apples, 
dashed to the ground. The Managers were either slain or 
disappeared. The whole affairs of the kingdom were con¬ 
ducted by a body called ‘ tlie Frait Committee; ’ and thus 
a total revolution of the Government of Yraibleusia was 
occasioned by the prohibition of foreign pine-apples. What 
an argument in favour of free-trade ! 

Every fruit, except that one which had so recently been 
supported by the influence of authority and the terrors of 
law, might now be seen and devoured in the streets of 
Hubbabub. In one corner men were sucking oranges, as if 
they had lived their whole lives on salt: in another, stuffing 
pumpkin, like cannibals at their first child. Here one 
took in at a mouthful a bunch of grapes, from which might 
liave been pressed a good quart. Another was lying on 
the ground from a surfeit of mulberries. The effect of this 
irrational excess will be conceived by the judicious reader. 
Calcutta itself never suffered from a cholera morbus half so 
fearful. Thousands were dying. Were I Thucydides or 
33occaccio, I would write pages on this ])lag’ue. The com¬ 
monwealth itself must soon have yielded its ghost, for all 
order had ceased throughout the island ever since they 
had deserted pine-apples. There was no Government: 
anarchy alone was perfect. Of the Emit Committee, many 
of the members were dead or dying, and the rest were 
robbing orchards. 

At this moment of disorganisation and dismay a stout 
soldier, one of the crab-apple faction,who had possessed suffi¬ 
cient command over himself, in spite of the seeming voracity 
of his appetite, not to indulge to a dangerous excess, 
made his way one morning into the old Hall of Audience, 
and there, groping about, succeeded in finding the golden 


446 


POPANILLA. 


head of the Statue; which placing on the hilt of his sword, 
the point of which he had stuck in the pedestal, he an¬ 
nounced to the city that he had discovered the secret of 
conversing with this wonderful piece of mechanism, and 
that in future he would take care of the health and fortune 
of the State. 

There were some who thought it rather strange that the 
head-piece should possess the power of resuming its old 
functions, although deprived of the aid of the body which 
contained the greater portion of the machinery. As it was 
evidently well supported by the sword, they were not 
surprised that it should stand without the use of its legs. 
But the stout soldier was the only one in the island who 
enjoyed the blessing of health. He was fresh, vigorous, 
and vigilant; they, exhausted, weak, and careless of every¬ 
thing except cure. He soon took measures for the pre¬ 
vention of future mischief and for the cure of the present; 
and when his fellow-islanders had recovered, some were 
grateful, others fearful, and all obedient. 

So long as the stout soldier lived no dissensions on tlio 
subject of fruit ever broke out. Although he himself never 
interfered in the sale of the article, and never attempted to 
create another monopoly, still, by his influence and autho¬ 
rity, he prevented any excess being occasioned by the Fruit 
toleration which was enjoyed. Indeed, the Yraibleusians 
themselves had suffered so severely from their late indis¬ 
cretions that such excesses were not likely again to occur. 
People began to discover that it was not quite so easy a 
thing as they had imagined for every man to be his own 
Fruiterer; and that gardening was a craft which, like 
others, required gi'eat study, long practice, and early ex¬ 
perience. Unable to supply themselves, the- majority be¬ 
came the victims of quack traders. They sickened of spongy 
apricots, and foxy pears, and withered plums, and blighted 
apples, and tasteless berries. They at length suspected 
that a nation might fare better if its race of fruiterers were 
overseen and supported by the State, if their skill and their 
market were alike secured. Although, no longer being 


POPANILLA. 


447 


tempted to sulFer from a surfeit, the health of the Islanders 
had consequently recovered, this was, after all, but a 
negative blessing, and they sadly missed a luxury once so 
reasonable and so refreshing. They sighed for an estab¬ 
lished fruit and a protected race of cultivators. But the 
stout soldier was so sworn an enemy to any Government 
Fruit, and so decided an admirer of the least delightful, 
that the people, having no desire of being forced to eat 
crab-apples, only longed for more delicious food in silence. 

At length the stout soldier died, and on the night of his 
death the sword which had so long supported the pre¬ 
tended Government snapped in twain. No arrangement 
existed for carrying on the administration of affairs. The 
master-mind was gone, without having imparted the secret 
of conversing with the golden head to any successor. The 
people assembled in agitated crowds. Each knew his 
neighbour’s thoughts without their being declared. All 
smacked their lips, and a cry for pine-apples rent the skies. 

At this moment the Aboriginal Inhabitant appeared, and 
announced that in‘examining the old Hall of Audience, 
which had been long locked up, he had discovered in a 
comer, where they had been flung by the stout soldier when 
he stole away the head, the remaining portions of the Statue; 
that they were quite uninjured, and that on flxing the head 
once more upon them, and winding up the works, he was 
delighted to find that this great work of his ancestor, under 
whose superintendence the nation had so flourished, re¬ 
sumed all its ancient functions. The people were in a state 
of mind for a miracle, and they hailed the joyful wonder 
with shouts of triumph. The Statue was placed under the 
provisional care of the Aboriginal. All arrangements for 
its superintendence were left to his discretion, and its 
advice was instantly to be taken upon that subject which at 
present was nearest the people’s hearts. 

But that subject was encompassed with difficulties. Pine¬ 
apples could only be again procured by an application to 
the Prince of the World, whose connection they had re¬ 
jected, and by an introduction into the island of those 


448 


rOPAKlLLA. 


foreign agents, wlio, noAv convinced tliat tlie Vraibleusiang 
could not exist 'without their presence, would be more arro¬ 
gant and ambitious and turbulent than ever. Indeed, the 
Aboriginal feared that the management of the Statue would 
be the sine qua non of negotiation with the Prince. If this 
were gTanted, it was clear that Vraibleusia must in future 
only rank as a dependent state of a foreign power, since 
the direction of the whole island would actually be at the 
will of the sup23lier of pine-apples. All! this mysterious 
taste for fruit! In politics it has often occasioned infinite 
embarrassment. 

At this critical moment the Aboriginal received informa¬ 
tion that, although the eating of pine-aj^ples had been 
utterly abolished, and although it irv^as generally supposed 
that a specimen of this fruit had long ceased to exist in the 
country, nevertheless a body of persons, chiefly consisting 
of the descendants of the Government gardeners who had 
succeeded the foreign agents, and who had never lost their 
taste for this pre-eminent fruit, had long been in the habit 
of secretly raising, for their private eating, pine-apples from 
the produce of those suckers which had originally excited 
such odium and occasioned such misfortunes. Long prac¬ 
tice, they said, and infinite study, had so perfected them in 
this art that they now succeeded in producing pine-apples 
which, both for size and flavour, were not inferior to the 
boasted produce of a foreign clime. Their specimens veri¬ 
fied their assertion, and the whole nation were invited to 
an instant trial. The long interval which had elapsed since 
any man had enjoyed a treat so agreeable lent, perhaps, an 
additional flavour to that which was really excellent; and 
so enraptured and enthusiastic were the great majority of 
the people that the propagators of suckers would have had 
no difiiculty, had they pushed the point, in procuring as 
favourable and exclusive a contract as the market-gardener * 
of ancient days. 

But the Aboriginal and his advisers were wisely mindful 
that the passions of a people are not arguments for legisla¬ 
tion ; and they felt conscious that when the first enthusiasm 
had subsided, and when them appetites were somewhat 


POPANILLA. 


449 


Batisfied, tlie discontented voices of many who had been long 
used to other fruits would he recognised even amidst the 
shouts of the majority. They therefore greatly qualified the 
contract between the nation and the present fruiterers. An 
universal Toleration of Fruit was allowed; but no man 
was to take office under Government, or enter the services, 
or in any way become connected with the Court, who was 
not supplied from the Government depots. 

Since this happy restoration Pine-apple has remained the 
established fruit of the Island of Vraibleusia; and, it must 
be confessed, has been found wonderfully conducive to the 
health and happiness of the Islanders. Some sectarians 
still remain obstinate, or tasteless enough to prefer pump¬ 
kin, or gorge the most acid apples, or chew the commonest 
pears ; but they form a slight minority, which will gradually 
altogether disappear. The votaries of Pine-apple pretend 
to observe the characteristic effect which such food pro¬ 
duces upon the feeders. They denounce them as stupid, 
sour, and vulgar. 

But while, notwithstandiug an universal toleration, such 
an unanimity of taste apparently prevails throughout the 
island, as if Fruit were a subject of such peculiar nicety 
that difference of opinion must necessarily rise among men, 
great Fruit factions even now prevail in Yraibleusia ; and, 
what is more extraordinary, prevail even amoug the admi¬ 
rers of pine-apples themselves. Of these, the most im¬ 
portant is a sect which professes to discover a natural 
deficiency not only in all other fruits, but even in the finest 
pine-apples. Fruit, they maintain, should never be eaten 
in the state in which Nature yields it to man; and they 
consequently are indefatigable in prevailing upon the less 
discriminating part of mankind to heighten the flavour of 
their pine-apples with ginger, or even with pepper. Al¬ 
though they profess to adopt these stimulants from the 
great admiration which they entertain for a high flavour, 
there are, nevertheless, some less ardent people who sus¬ 
pect that they rather have recourse to them from tho 
weakness of their digestion. 


450 


POPANILLA. 


■ CHAPTER XV. 

As his Excellency Prince Popanilla really could not tliink 
of being annoyed by the attentions of the mob during his 
visit to Blunderland, he travelled quite in a quiet way, 
under the name of the Chevalier de Fantaisie, and was 
accompanied only by Skindeep and two attendants. As 
Blunderland was one of the islands of the Vraibleusian 
Archipelago, they arrived there after the sail of a few 
hours. 

The country was so beautiful that the Chevalier was 
almost reminded of Fantaisie. Green meadows and flourish- 
ins: trees made him remember the railroads and canals of 
Vraibleusia without regret, or with disgust, which is much 
the same. The women were angelic, which is the highest 
praise ; and the men the most light-hearted, merry, obliging, 
entertaining fellows that he had met with in the whole 
course of his hfe. Oh ! it was delicious. 

After an hour’s dashing drive, he arrived at a city which, 
had he not seen Hubbabub, he should have imagined was 
one of the most considerable in the world; but compared 
with the Vraibleusian capital it was a street. 

Shortly after his arrival, according to the custom of the 
place, Popanilla joined the public table of his hotel at dinner. 
He was rather surprised that, instead of knives and forks 
being laid for the convenience of the guests, the plates were 
flanked by daggers and pistols. As Popanilla now made a 
point of never asking a question of Skindeep, he addressed 
himself for information to his other neighbour, one of the 
civilcst, most hospitable, and joyous rogues that ever set a 
table in a roar. On Popanilla inquiring the reason of their 
using these singular instruments, his neighbour, with an 
air of great astonishment, confessed his ignorance of any 
people ever using any other; and in his turn asked how 
they could possibly eat their dinner without. The Chevalier 
was puzzled, but he was now too well bred ever to pursue 
an enquiry. 


POPANILLA. 


451 


Popanilla, being thirsty, helped himself to a goblet of 
water, which was at hand. It was the most delightful water 
that he ever tasted. In a few minutes he found that he was 
a little dizzy, and, supposing this megrim to be occasioned 
by the heat of the room, he took another draught of water 
to recover himself. 

As his neighbour was telHng him an excellent joke a 
man entered the room and shot the joker through the head. 
The opposite guest immediately charged his pistol with 
effect, and revenged the loss. A party of men, well armed, 
now rushed in, and a brisk conflict immediately ensued. 
Popanilla, who was very dizzy, was fortunately pushed under 
the table. When the firing and slashing had ceased, he 
ventured to crawl out. He found that the assailants had 
been beaten off, though unfortunately with the total loss of 
all tlie guests, who lay lifeless about the room. Even the 
prudent Skindeep, who had sought refuge in a closet, had 
lost his nose, which was a pity; because, although this gen¬ 
tleman had never been in Blunderland before, he had passed 
his whole life in maintaining that the accounts of the dis¬ 
turbances in that country were greatly exaggerated. Popa¬ 
nilla rang the bell, and the waiters, who were remarkably 
attentive, swept away the dead bodies, and brought him a 
roasted potato for supper. 

The Chevalier soon retired to rest. He found at the side 
of his bed a blunderbuss, a cutlass, and a pike; and he was 
directed to secure the door of his chamber with a great 
chain and a massy iron bar. Peeling great confidence in 
his securities, although he was quite ignorant of the cause 
of alarm, and very much exhausted with the bustle of the 
day, he enjoyed sounder sleep than had refreshed him for 
many weeks. He was awakened in the middle of the night 
by a loud knocking at his door. He immediately seized his 
blunderbuss, but, recognising the voice of his own valet, he 
only took his pike. His valet told him to unbar without 
loss of time, for the house had been set on fire. Popanilla 
immediately made his escape, but found himself surrounded 
by the incendiaries. He gave himself up for lost, when a 


452 


POPANILLA. 


sudden cliarge of cavalry brought him off in triumph. He 
Avas convinced of the utility of light-horse. 

The military had arrived with such despatch that the 
fire was the least effective that had wakened the house for 
the whole week*. It was soon extinguished, and Popanilla 
again retired to his bedroom, not forgetting his bar and his 
chain. 

In the morning Popanilla was roused by his landlord, 
who told him that a large party was about to partake of the 
pleasures of the chase, and most politely enquired whether 
he would like to join them. Popanilla assented, and after 
having eaten an excellent breakfast, and received a favour¬ 
able bulletin of Skindeep’s wound, he mounted his horse. 
The party was numerous and well armed. Popanilla en¬ 
quired of a huntsman what sport they generally followed 
in Blunderland. According to the custom of this country, 
where they never give a direct answer, the huntsman said 
that he did not know that there was any other sport but 
one. Popanilla thought him a brute, and dug his spurs 
into his horse. 

They went off at a fine rate, and the exercise was most 
exhilarating. In a short time, as they were cantering along 
a defile, they received a sharp fire from each side, Avhich 
rather reduced their numbers ; but they revenged themselves 
for this loss when they regained the plain, where they burnt 
two villages, sleAV two or three hundred head of women, 
and bagged children without number. On their return 
home to dinner they chased a small body of men over a 
heath for nearly two hours, which afforded good sport; but 
they did not succeed in running them down, as they them¬ 
selves Avere in turn chased by another party. Altogether, 
the day was not deficient in interest, and Popanilla found 
in the evening his powers of digestion improved. 

After passing his days in this manner for about a fort¬ 
night, Popanilla perfectly recovered from his dyspepsia; 
and Skindeep’s wound having noAV healed, he retired Avith 
regret from this healthy climate. He took advantage of 
the leisure moment Avhich Avas afforded during the sail to 


P0PAN11.LA. 


453 


enquire the reason of the disturbed state of this interesting 
country. He was told that it was in consequence of the 
majority of the inhabitacts persisting in importing their 
own pine-apples. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

On his return to Hubbabub, the Chevalier de Fantaisie 
found the city in the greatest confusion. The military were 
marshalled in all directions; the streets were lined with 
field-pieces; no one was abroad; all the shops were 
shut. Although not a single vehicle was visible, Popa- 
nilla’s progress was slow, from the quantity of shells of all 
kinds which choked up the public way. When he arrived 
at his hotel he found that all the windows were broken. 
He entered, and his landlord immediately presented him 
with his bill. As the landlord was pressing, and as Popa- 
nilla wished for an opportunity of showing his confidence 
in Skindeep’s friendship, he requested him to pay the 
amount. Skindeep sent a messenger immediately to his 
banker, deeming an ambassador almost as good security as 
a nation, which we all know to be the very best. 

This little arrangement being concluded, the landlord 
resumed his usual civility. He informed the travellers that 
the whole island was in a state of the greatest commotion, 
and that martial law universally prevailed. He said that 
this disturbance was occasioned by the return of the expe¬ 
dition destined to the Isle of Fantaisie. It appeared, from 
his account, that after sailing about from Xew Guinea to 
Xew Holland, the expedition had been utterly unable not 
only to reach their new customers, but even to obtain the 
slightest intelligence of their locality. Xo such place as- 
Fantaisie was known at Ceylon. Sumatra gave informa¬ 
tion equally unsatisfactory. Java shook its head. Celebes 
conceived the enquirers were jesting. The Philippine Isles 
offered to accommodate them with spices, but could assist 
them in no other way. Had it not been too hot at Borneo, 



454 


POPANILLA. 


they would have fairly laughed outright. The Maldives 
and the Moluccas, the Luccadives and the Andamans, were 
nearly as impertinent. The five hundred ships and the 
judiciously-assorted cargo were therefore under the neces¬ 
sity of returning home. 

No sooner, however, had they reached Yraibleusia than 
the markets were immediately glutted with the unsold 
goods. All the manufacturers, who had been working day 
and night in preparing for the next expedition, were in¬ 
stantly thrown out of employ. A run commenced on the 
Government Bank. That institution perceived too late 
that the issues of pink shells had been too unrestricted. 
As the Emperor of the East had all the gold, the Govern¬ 
ment Bank only protected itself from failure by bayoneting 
its creditors. The manufacturers, who were starving, con¬ 
soled themselves for the absence of food by breaking all 
the windows in the country with the discarded shells. 
Every tradesman failed. The shipping interest advertised 
two or three fleets for firewood. Biots were universal. 
The Aboriginal was attacked on all sides, and made so 
stout a resistance, and broke so many cudgels on the backs 
of his assailants, that it was supposed he would be finally 
exhausted by his own exertions. The public funds sunk 
ten per cent, daily. All the Millionaires crashed. In a 
word, dismay, disorganisation, despair, pervaded in all di¬ 
rections the Avisest, the greatest, and the richest nation in 
the world. The master of the hotel added, Avith an air of 
becoming embarrassment, that, had not his Excellency 
been fortunately absent, he probably Avould not have had 
the pleasure of detailing to him this little narrative ; that 
he had often been enquired for by the populace at his old 
balcony ; and that a crowd had perpetually surrounded the 
house till within the last day, Avhen a report had got about 
that his Excellency had turned into steam and disappeared. 
He added that caricatures of his Highness might be pro¬ 
cured in any shop, and his account of his voyage obtained 
at less than half-price. 


POPANILLA. 455 

‘ Ah ! ’ said Popanilla, in a tone of great anguish, ‘ and 
all this from losing a lock of hair ! ’ 

At this moment the messenger whom Skindeep had 
despatched returned, and informed him with great regret 
that his banker, to whom he had entrusted his whole for¬ 
tune, had been so unlucky as to stop payment during his 
absence. It was expected, however, that when his stud 
was sold a respectable dividend might be realised. This 
was the personage of prepossessing appearance who had 
presented Popanilla with a perpetual ticket to his picture 
gallery. On examining the banker’s accounts, it was dis¬ 
covered that his chief loss had been incurred by supporting 
that competition establishment where purses were bought 
full of crowns. 

In spite of his own misfortunes, Popanilla hastened to 
console his friend. He explained to him that things were 
not quite so bad as they appeared; that society consisted of 
two classes, those who laboured, and those who paid the 
labourers ; that each class was equally useful, because, if 
there were none to pay, the labourers would not be remu¬ 
nerated, and if there were none to labour, the payers would 
not be accommodated; that Skindeep might still rank in 
one of these classes; that he might therefore still be a 
useful member of society; that, if he were useful, he must 
therefore be good; and that, if he were good, he must 
therefore be happy; because happiness is the consequence 
of assisting the beneficial development of the ameliorating 
principles of the social action. 

As he was speaking, two gentlemen in blue, with red 
waistcoats, entered the chamber and seized Popanilla by 
the collar. The Vraibleusian Government, which is so 
famous for its interpretation of National Law, had arrested 
tlie Ambassador for high treason. 



466 


POPANILLA. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A PRISON conveyed the most lugubrious ideas to the 
mind of the unhappy Plenipotentiary; and shut up in a 
hackney-coach, with a man on each side of liim with a 
cocked pistol, he formed the most gloomy conceptions of 
dark dungeons, confined cells, overwhelming fetters, black 
bread, and green water. He arrived at the principal gaol 
in Hubbabub. He was ushered into an elegantly furnished 
apartment, with French sash windows and a piano. Its 
lofty walls were entirely hung with a fanciful paper, which 
represented a Tuscan vineyard ; the ceiling was covered 
with sky and clouds ; roses were in abundance; and the 
windows, though well secured, excited no jarring associa¬ 
tions in the mind of the individual they illumined, pro¬ 
tected, as they were, by polished bars of cut steel. This 
retreat had been fitted up by a poetical politician, who had 
recently been confined for declaring that the Statue was 
an old idol originally imported from the Sandwich Isles. 
Taking up a brilliantly bound volume which reposed 
upon a rosewood table, Popanilla recited aloud a sonnet to 
Liberty; but the account given of the goddess by the 
bard was so confused, and he seemed so little acquainted 
with his subject, that the reader began to suspect it was 
an effusion of the gaoler. 

Xext to being a Plenipotentiary, Popanilla preferred 
being a prisoner. His daily meals consisted of every deli¬ 
cacy in Season : a marble bath was ever at his service; a 
billiard-room and dumb-bells alwa 3 ^s ready; and his old 
friend, the most eminent physician and the most cele¬ 
brated practitioner in Hubbabub, called upon him daily to 
feel his pulse and look at his tongue. These attentions 
authorised a ho23e that he might yet again be an Ambassa¬ 
dor, that his native land might still be discovered, and its 
resom*ces still be developed : but when his gaoler told him 
that the rest of the prisoners were treated in a manner 
equally indulgent, because the Vraibleusians are the most 


POPANILLA. 


457 


humane people in the world, Popanilla’s spirits became 
somewhat depressed. 

He was greatly consoled, however, by a daily visit from a 
body of the most beautiful, the most accomplished, and the 
most virtuous females in Hubbabub, who tasted his food 
to see that his cook did his duty, recommended him a plen-' 
tiful use of pine-apple well peppered, and made him a pre¬ 
sent of a very handsome shirt, with worked frills and 
ruffles, to be hanged in. This enchanting committee gene¬ 
rally confined their attentions to murderers and other 
victims of the passions, who were deserted in their hour 
of need by the rest of the society they had outraged; but 
Popanilla, being a foreigner, a Prince, and a Plenipo¬ 
tentiary, and not ill-looking, naturally attracted a great 
deal of notice from those who desire the amelioration of 
their species. 

Popanilla was so pleased with his mode of life, and had 
acquired such a taste for poetry, pine-apples, and pepper 
since he had ceased to be an active member of society, that 
he applied to have his trial postponed, on the ground of 
the prejudice which had been excited against him by the 
public press. As his trial was at present inconvenient to 
the Government, the postponement Avas allowed on these 
grounds. 

In the meantime, the public agitation was subsiding. 
The nation reconciled itself to the roAmlution in its for¬ 
tunes. The ci-devant millionaires were busied with re¬ 
trenchment ; the Government engaged in sweeping in as 
many pink shells as were lying about the country; the 
mechanics contrived to live upon chalk and sea-weed ; and 
as the Aboriginal would not give his corn away gratis, the 
Vraibleusians determined to give up bread. The intellec¬ 
tual part of the nation Avere intently interested in disco¬ 
vering the cause of the National Distress. One of the 
philosophers said that it might all be traced to the effects 
of a Avar in which the Vraibleusians had engaged about a 
century before. Another shoAved that it Avas altogether 
clearly ascribable to the pernicious custom of issuing pink 


458 


POPANILLA. 


shells ; but if, instead of this mode of representing wealth, 
they had had recourse to blue shells, the nation would 
now have advanced to a state of prosperity which it had 
never yet reached. A third demonstrated to the satisfaction 
of himself and his immediate circle that it was all owing 
to the Statue having recently been repaired with silver 
instead of iron. The public were unable to decide between 
these conflicting opinions; but they were still more de¬ 
sirous of finding out a remedy for the evil than the cause 
of it. 

An eloquent and philosophical -writer, who entertains con¬ 
solatory opinions of liuman nature, has recently told us 
that ‘ it is in the nature of things that the intellectual wamts 
of society should be supplied. Whenever the man is re¬ 
quired invariably the man will appear.’ So it happened in 
the present instance. A public instructor jumped up in the 
person of Mr. Flummery Flam, the least insinuating and 
the least plausible personage that ever performed the easy 
task of gulling a nation. His manners were vulgar, his 
voice was sharp, and his language almost unintelligible. 
Flummery Flam was a provisional optimist. He maintained 
that everything would be for the best, if the nation would 
only follow his advice. He told the Vraibleusians that the 
present universal and overwhelming distress was all and en¬ 
tirely and merely to be ascribed to ‘a slight over-trading,’ and 
that all that was required to set everything right again was ‘a 
little time.’ He showed that this over-trading and every 
other injudicious act that had ever been committed were 
entirely to be ascribed to the nation being imbued with 
erroneous and imperfect ideas of the nature of Demand and 
Supply. He proved to them that if a tradesman cannot 
find customers his goods will generally stay upon his own 
hands. He explained to the Aboriginal the meaning of 
rent ; to the mechanics the nature of wages ; to the manu¬ 
facturers the aignification profits. He recommended that 
a large edition of his own work should be printed at the 
public expense and sold for his private profit. Finally, he 
explained how immediate, though temporary, relief would 


POPANILLA. 


459 


bo afforded to the State by the encouragement of Emi¬ 
gration. 

The Vraibleusians began to recover their spirits. The 
Government had the highest confidence in Flummery Flam, 
because Flummery Flam served to divert the public 
thoughts. By his direction lectures were instituted at the 
corner of every street, to instil the right principles of poli¬ 
tics into the mind of the great body of the people. Every 
person, from the Managers of the Statue down to the chalk- 
chewing mechanics, attended lectures on Flummery-Flam- 
mism. The Vraibleusians suddenly discovered that it was 
the great object of a nation not to be the most powerful, or 
the richest, or the best, or the wisest, but to be the most 
Flummery-Flammistical. 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

The day fixed for Popanilla’s trial was at hand. The Prince 
was not unprepared for the meeting. For some weeks 
before the appointed day he had been deeply studying the 
published speeches of the greatest rhetorician that floui’ished 
at the Vraibleusian bar. He was so inflated with their 
style that he nearly blew down the gaoler every morning 
when he rehearsed a passage before him. Indeed, Popa- 
nilla looked forward to his trial with feelings of anticipated 
triumph. He determined boldly and fearlessly to state the 
principles upon which his public conduct had been founded, 
the sentiments he professed on most of the important sub¬ 
jects which interest mankind, and the views he entertained 
of the progress of society. He would then describe, in the 
most glowing language, the domestic happiness which he 
enjoyed in his native isle. He would paint, in harrowing 
sentences, the eternal misery and disgrace which his igno¬ 
minious execution would entail upon the grey-headed father, 
who looked up to him as a prop for his old age; the 
affectionate mother, who perceived in him her husband 
again a youth; tlie devoted wife, who could never survive 



460 


POPANILLA. 


his loss; and the sixteen children, chiefly girls, whom his 
death wonld infallibly send upon the parish. This, with an 
eulogistic peroration on the moral qualities of the Vrai- 
bleusians and the political importance of Vraibleusia, would, 
he had no doubt, not only save his neck, but even gain him 
a moderate pension. 

The day arrived, the Court was crowded, and Popanilla 
had the satisfaction of observing in the newspapers that 
tickets for the best gallery to witness his execution were 
selling at a premium. 

The indictment was read. He listened to it with intense 
attention. To his surprise, he found himself accused of 
stealing two hundred and nineteen Camelopards. All was 
now explained. He perceived that he had been mistaken 
the whole of this time for another person. He could not 
contain himself. He burst into an exclamation. He told 
the judge, in a voice of mingled delight, humility, and 
triumph, that it was possible he might be guilty of high 
treason, because he was ignorant of what the crime con¬ 
sisted; but as for stealing two hundred aud nineteen Came¬ 
lopards, he declared that such a larceny was a moral impos¬ 
sibility, because he had never seen one such animal in the 
whole course of his life. 

The judge was kind and considerate. He told the pri¬ 
soner that the charge of stealing Camelopards was a fiction 
of law; that he had no doubt he had never seen one 
in the whole course of his life, nor in all probability had 
any one in the whole Court. He explained to Popanilla, 
that originally this animal greatly abounded in Yrai- 
bleusia; that the present Court, the highest and most 
ancient in the kingdom, had then been instituted for the 
jjunishment of all those who molested or injured that 
splendid animal. The species, his lordship continued, had 
been long extinct; but the Vraibleusians, duly reverencing 
the institutions of their ancestors, had never presumed to 
abrogate the authority of the Camelopard Court, or invest 
any other with equal privileges. Therefore, his lordship 
added, in order to try you in this Court for a modern 


POPANILLA. 


461 


offence of higli treason, you mu^ first be introduced by 
fiction, of law as a stealer of Camelopards, and then being 
in prcesenti regio, in a manner, we proceed to business by a 
special power for the absolute offence. Popanilfa was so 
confounded by the kindness of the judge and the clearness 
of his lordship’s statement that he quite lost the thread of 
his peroration. 

The trial proceeded. Everybody with whom Popanilla 
had conversed during his visit to Vraibleusia was subpoenaed 
against him, and the evidence was conclusive. Skindeep, 
who was brought up by a warrant from the King’s Bench, 
proved the fact of Popanilla’s landing; and that he had 
given himself out as a political exile, the victim of a tyrant, 
a corrupt aristocracy, and a misguided people. But, either 
from a secret feeling towards his former friend or from his 
aversion to answer questions, this evidence was on the 
whole not very satisfactory. 

The bookseller proved the publication of that fatal volume 
whose deceptive and glowing statements were alone suffi¬ 
cient to ensure Popanilla’s fate. It was in vain that the 
author avowed that he had never written a lino of his own 
book. This only made his imposture more evident. The 
little philosopher with whom he had conversed at Lady 
Spirituelle’s, and who, being a friend of Plummery Plain, 
had now obtained a place under Government, invented the 
most condemning evidence. The Marquess of Moustache 
sent in a state paper, desiring to be excused from giving 
evidence, on account of the delicate situation in which ho 
had been placed with regard to the prisoner; but he referred 
them to his former Private Secretary, who, he had no 
doubt, would afford every information. Accordingly, the 
President of Fort Jobation, who had been brought over 
specially, finished the business. 

The Judge, although his family had suffered considerably 
by the late madness for speculation, summed up in the 
most impartial manner. He told the jury that, although 
the case was quite clear against the prisoner, they were 
bound to give him the advantage of every reasonable 


462 


POPANILLA. 


doubt. The foreman was about to deliver the verdict, when 
a trumpet sounded, and a Government messenger ran 
breathless into Court. Presenting a scroll to the presiding 
genius, he informed him that a remarkably able young man, 
recently appointed one of the Managers of the Statue, in 
consequence of the inconvenience which the public sus¬ 
tained from the innumerable quantity of edicts of the 
Statue at present in force, had last night consolidated them 
all into this single act, which, to render its operation still 
more simple, was gifted with a retrospective power for the 
last half century. 

His lordship, looking over the scroll, passed a high eulo- 
gium upon the young consolidator, compared to whom, he 
said, Justinian was a country attorney. Observing, how¬ 
ever, that the crime of high treason had been accidentally 
omitted in the consolidated legislation of Yraibleusia, ho 
directed the jury to find the prisoner ‘ not guilty.’ As in 
Yraibleusia the law believes every man’s character to be 
perfectly pure until a jury of twelve persons finds the re¬ 
verse, Popanilla was kicked out of court, amid the hootings 
of the mob, without a stain upon his reputation. 

It was late in the evening when he left the court. Ex¬ 
hausted both in mind and body, the mischief being now 
done, and being totally unemployed, according to custom, 
he began to moralise. ‘ I begin to perceive,’ said he, ‘ that 
it is possible for a nation to exist in too artificial a state ; 
that a people may both think too much and do too much. 
All here exists in a state of exaggeration. The nation itself 
professes to be in a situation in which it is impossible for 
any nation ever to be naturally placed. To maintain them¬ 
selves in this false position, they necessarily have recourse 
to much destructive conduct and to many fictitious prin¬ 
ciples. And as the character of a people is modelled on 
that of their Government, in private life this system of 
exaggeration equally prevails, and equally produces a due 
quantity of ruinous actions and false sentiment! In the 
meantime, I am starving, and dare not show my face in the 
fight of day! ’ 


POPANILLA. 


463 


As lie said tliis tlie house opposite was suddenly lit up, 
and the words ‘ emigration committee ’ were distinctly visible 
on a transparent blind. A sudden resolution entered Popa- 
nilla’s mind to make an application to this body. He 
entered the Committee-room, and took his place at the end 
of a row of individuals, who were severally examined. 
When it was his turn to come forward he bcijan to tell his 
story from the beginning, and would certainly have got to 
the lock of hair had not the President enjoined silence. 
Popanillawas informed that the last Emigration-squadron 
was about to sail in a few minutes ; and that, although the 
number was completed, his broad shoulders and powerful 
frame had gained him a place. He was presented with a 
spade, a blanket, and a hard biscuit, and in a quarter of an 
hour was quitting the port of Hubbabub. 

Once more upon the waters, yet once more ! 

As the Emigration-squadron quitted the harbour two 
large fleets hove in sight. The flrst was the expedition 
which had been despatched against the decapitating King 
of the Horth, and which now returned heavily laden with 
his rescued subjects. The other was the force which had 
flown to the preservation of the body of the decapitated 
King of the South, and which now brought back his 
Majesty embalmed, some Princes of the blood, and an 
emigrant Aristocracy. 

What became of the late Fantaisian Ambassador; whether 
he were destined for Yan Diemen’s Land or for Canada; 
what rare adventures he experienced in Sydney, or Port 
Jackson, or Guelph City, or Goodrich Town; and whether 
he discovered that man might exist in too natural a state, 
as well as in too artificial a one, will probably be discovered, 
if ever we obtain Captain Popanilla’s Second Voyage. 


PSINTED BV BALLANTYNE, PtANSON AND CO. 
EDINBURGH AND LONDON 



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